


Missed Connections

by starkintern



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, In later chapters - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Tony Stark, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Build, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stony - Freeform, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Undercover Missions, civil war is ignored, they both get a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-12-29 00:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkintern/pseuds/starkintern
Summary: The last thing Tony Stark expects is to be handed an undercover mission with none other than Steve Rogers. The two of them end up getting more than they bargained for as the seemingly simple mission turns out to be part of something much bigger than either of them originally thought. With constant disagreements, they are the least likely team to qualify but somehow they manage. They always do.





	1. Undercover Paperwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wonders if Natasha ever told him that undercover work involved more paperwork than an office job. No, she probably left that detail out, and for good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this by impulse, hope you all enjoy!

_Current_  
**April 23rd — 11:23 P.M.**

Tony finds himself sandwiched all the way in the back of an elevator with Steve, who is equally uncomfortable, on his right side, and some tall stranger on his left. Tony sees Steve tug at the collar of his suit, most likely in an attempt to feel more at ease, but in this scenario, it seems nearly impossible. His gaze is fixated on the steel doors in front of them, as if the elevator doors are the most interesting thing in the world. 

A few more awkward and silent seconds pass as the elevator descends down from the second floor to the first, taking all three men away from the Gala event they all found themselves in. Thankfully, as the doors slide open, the other man gets out of the elevator and walks down the hall, allowing for Tony and Steve to get some much-needed room to breathe. 

Tony pulls a small, golden key out of his back pocket and confidently stuffs it into a keyhole located below all of the floor numbers. The keyhole looked like its purpose is to open a system control for an engineer, but Tony’s been eavesdropping with a drink in his hand, finding out the true purpose, and with his wicked charm, he got his hands on the key. As soon as the doors close once again and the elevator lurches into motion, Tony stuffs the key back into his pocket and casually leans up against the right corner while Steve remains in the left. 

“Ready for what we’re about to see?” 

Steve arches an eyebrow, finally looking away from the elevator doors. “You act like we’re going face-to-face with an entire army.” 

“Hey, I don’t know what’s down here other than the fact that it’s what we need to kick this mission off.” Tony says before he watches Steve tug at his collar again. “Do you wear suits often?” 

“Not unless I absolutely have to.” Steve admits. “It’s just been a while since I’ve worn a suit so formal.” 

The elevator soon stops once again, interrupting their conversation, and the doors smoothly slide open, the light from the elevator illuminating the dark area extended out in front of them. It takes Tony a while to adjust from such a bright area to a dark one, and if he has to be honest, the darkness unsettles him. It reminds him of the darkness of the cave in Afghanistan, and that is certainly not the comparison he wants to be making right now. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Steve asks as he pokes his head out of the elevator, eyeing the dark room as a frown slowly forms on his face. They had no weapons on them and Tony’s Arc Reactor, which could have provided a light source, was covered by his suit, though that can be a good thing if they weren’t alone. 

“The man we’re looking for mentioned the basement level as being off-limits and this is the last floor. Not to mention that I took the key from him with the old bump-and-apologize trick,” Tony points out as he casually makes his way out, motioning for Steve to follow him, and then he looks at the watch situated on his left hand, “Friday, any security cameras around here?” 

Tony waits as the watch makes quiet beeping sounds for a few seconds before flashing green and Friday responds dutifully, “None found. There are also no other human lifeforms here.” 

“It doesn’t make sense. If there’s anything valuable here, there’s bound to be some form of security.” Steve shakes his head as if in disapproval of their poor security measures, and Tony has to mentally admit that he agrees. They both hear the elevator door close behind them and the room seems to plunge into a much deeper darkness than before, so much so that even Tony’s hidden Arc Reactor’s faint light blue glow is slightly visible. “I don’t trust this.” 

“You and me both, Captain Spangles,” Tony agrees, taking a few steps forward. It is definitely strange that there are no cameras in what is supposed to be a secure room that requires an elevator key simply to unlock the floor. He knows that they are not out of the weeds yet but at least they can rule out their faces being connected to anything that goes on here. 

At first, Tony considers doing another scan for good measure, but then decides, _Well, taking risks is part of the job description. If Friday says there’s no one here, then there’s no one here. At least not now._

For the next few minutes, Tony rummages through the room while Steve trails behind him. He finds other keys, pencils, pens, guns, bullets, various papers with half-finished sketches, receipts, and some take-out boxes. He contemplates how much he can carry, especially if he’s on the run, and frowns. _I suppose Fury won’t mind some digital evidence,_ Tony assures himself as he pulls out his phone and takes a few pictures of some papers he came across, promising himself he would read them later. 

“Tony? You might wanna look at this.” Steve’s voice interrupts Tony’s process and he looks up to see the faint figure of Steve near the back of the room, looking down at a table. Curious, Tony makes his way over to him and follows his gaze, briefly reading the words stamped on the file before both relief and excitement wash over him like a tidal wave. 

“Jackpot!” Tony exclaims as he looks at the confidential file, which is filled to the brim with disorganized papers. He puts his phone away and gathers the folder in his arms, surprised at how heavy it is. As soon as he has it in a secure grasp, he glances back towards Steve, who is busy staring off into the distance behind them, his eyes unusually clouded. Naturally, Tony doesn’t take it as a good sign. 

“Earth to Capsicle, what’s going on? Let’s skedaddle while we got the goods and have the chance.” 

“Get down!” Steve suddenly hisses and a rough hand on Tony’s shoulder shoves him to the ground before he can protest or ask what’s going on. As they crouch on the ground, Tony notices that the two of them are unusually close to each other, close enough to feel each other softly breathing, but he no longer cares as soon as he hears distant voices near the elevator. 

Tony feels his blood run ice cold. 

_Earlier that day …_  
**April 23rd — 9:03 P.M.**

“Explain to me, why did Fury send us undercover again?” Tony asks as he stands in front of the mirror and ties his red tie, “Especially since our faces are probably tattooed on the bodies of other people?” 

Tony can see Steve make a disgusted expression in the reflection, “I’d rather not think about that. I still think he should leave the spy business to Nat. But since both she and Clint are out of commission, I guess he had no other choice. He said this is important, I know he wouldn’t have bothered if it wasn’t.” 

Ignoring the obvious remark about Natasha, Tony pauses for a moment as he finally finishes tightening the tie and says, “Hey, it’s happened to me before. Didn’t I tell you about it? Somebody had a tattoo of me on their arm. Anyways, I haven’t seen anyone with you on their bodies, but that increases the chances of your face being drawn straight on their butt. How do you feel about that, Capsicle?” 

As Tony turns around to face Steve, he almost cracks up at the sight his face, with his eyebrows furrowed and jaw tightly set, as if he’s holding back some choice words. “I’m starting to _really_ wish I was undercover with Nat instead. Have you ever even been undercover before?” 

“No,” Tony responds flatly, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ve never gone undercover before because all I do is sit in front of cameras and smile. Of course I have, Rogers, you think I go to Home Depot with a red carpet behind me?” He pauses. “Though, now that I think of it, it doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea.” Of course, he never went undercover in this sense, but he’ll leave that detail out for the sake of Steve not going into cardiac arrest so early in the mission. 

Steve shrugs in defeat before he busies himself with his own tie, colored blue in contrast to Tony’s red. Both of them are in formal wear since Fury reported a Gala going on where they are most likely to find out everything they can. 

As Steve continues to get dressed, Tony sits on the table – which is not too shabby for a hotel table, though that is because Tony insisted on getting a five-star hotel and refused to stay in anything else – and wonders how he got himself into this. 

He had been working on upgrades for his suit when he turned around and found Fury sitting on one of his work benches, drinking a cup of coffee as if he’s been there for hours. Annoyed with his surprise appearances, Tony asked him in a not-so-nice way what he was doing here, only to have his words drown in his throat as he realized that Steve Grant Rogers was awkwardly standing a few feet away. The blonde offered him an awkward smile and waved, while Tony simply stood there, trying to think of all of the possible world-ending scenarios that can possibly be going on. Just when he thought that things were finally calming down! 

Thankfully, what Fury ended up describing sounded less urgent than aliens invading Earth or a robot trying to commit mass murder, but still important. He was vague, mentioning that Steve and Tony had to go undercover so the “bad guys” wouldn’t get nervous that the Avengers were on their tails and go into hiding, therefore jeopardizing any potential evidence and ways to stop them before they go underground. 

“We need to get these guys,” Nick had simply said, “and we need to do it without mass hysteria. Agent Romanoff and Barton are out of commission for a while. You know I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t think it is important or that this is some average every day bank robbery.” 

Back then, Tony agreed. Did he really know what he was getting himself into, though? 

His thought process and trip down memory lane is soon rudely interrupted as Tony’s phone rings, and he spares a brief glance at the caller ID. “It’s Fury. Let’s not pick up. I wanna see if he sends the entirety of SHIELD after us or if he just assumes we’ve keeled over and calls it a day. I’ll bet you half of my company’s fortune _and_ one of my kidneys that it’s the latter.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, “This mission isn’t a joke, Stark. Pick up the phone otherwise I will.” 

Tony grins as he takes his phone into his hands, “Alright, you polite blonde boy. It sure as hell is funny, though.” Then, he finally slides the button to answer the call and gets off of the table only to dramatically drop on the bed, his back sinking into the mattress as one arm cushions his head, “Hello, welcome to Tony’s Pizzeria, may I take your order?” 

“Yes, thank you, a large plain pie with a side of ‘cut the sass, Stark,’” Fury’s voice comes from the other end. “Are you two ready? The event starts in ten minutes and I want to make sure that you didn’t argue yourselves out of there.” 

“Ready? Yes, we are. We look like ourselves in business suits, and to me that’s nothing new, so I’m wondering how you’re expecting us to pull this off,” Tony muses as he watches Steve try to change something in his hair style in front of the mirror, snorting when the strands just spring back to normal, “I’d give us five minutes out there before someone recognizes us, and that’s being generous with my math.” 

“Don’t worry, I have everything handled,” Fury reassures him and before Tony can ask why, he explains, “Iron Man and Captain America are reportedly in Florida having the vacation of their lives.” 

“Seriously? Anyone can tell that’s fake. You’d never give us a vacation. In Florida, nonetheless. Is your team going to focus on Photoshopping pictures of us on the beach? If so, can you make me taller than Steve?” 

Tony sees Steve mouth “you wish” and he playfully flips him off in response. 

“As long as the media believes it, then your bad guys will believe it, too. You’ll also find other necessary supplies in the folder I gave you.” 

Tony shrugs his shoulders, trying to ease his growing doubt as he stares up at the ceiling, “So you just want us to crash this party and find some files?” 

“For now, just stick to files. Any files you can find. We need to know more about what we’re up against before you take them down.” 

“Right. Okay, we’ll tell you how it goes, I’ll bring you back some goodie bags.” 

“Good luck, Stark. Send my best to Rogers, too. Check in after you find something, and we’ll decide on the next move. And remember, nobody knows who you are. Keep it that way otherwise I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll find yourself right back in that workshop-”

Tony ends the call before Fury can finish his very loving and thoughtful threat. By that time, Steve is done dressing up and looks at Tony in wonder, expecting some sort of explanation from him. Tony sits up and motions for Steve to hand him a thin folder, “Let’s take a look at this so we know what we’re doing. As much as I prefer to wing things, I’m afraid Fury will materialize in here and follow through with his promise if we don’t prepare.” 

The information they have is minimal and, in all honesty, absolutely pathetic. As Tony sits on the edge of the bed with Steve by his side, they both seem pretty disappointed, the only clue they have is that their assigned bad guys work in a tightly knit group. 

“A cult maybe?” 

Tony shakes his head, “No, if this were a cult, Fury wouldn’t have called us in. That’s _way_ below our paygrade.” He flips through pages, attempting to memorize faces, names, anything he could get his eyes on. Eventually, his eyes fall upon two small cards paperclipped to the end of the file, and he curiously picks them up. 

Steve notices their details first and he doesn’t hesitate to point it out, “Those must be fake ID cards.” 

“I feel like I’m back in college,” Tony murmurs to himself before he takes a look at them as well, “hey, Cap, you never told me your real name is Dr. Alan Boreman. What’s with all the secrets, huh? I thought we were friends.” 

“Look who’s talking, Mr. David Anders,” Tony hears Steve say, and he frowns at his own fake identity card. 

“I still have no idea how Fury wants us to fool people into thinking we’re not who they think we are. Us styling our hair differently will just make us look like we had a bad hair day and let me tell you, that in itself is a massive blow to my pride.” 

“Maybe it’s what this lens case is for?” 

Tony tears his attention away from his fake ID and sees that Steve had pulled out a rather small lens case and before Tony can ask where he got that, he mentioned Fury’s name. _I guess this is what Fury meant by ‘other necessary supplies.’_

“So, Stark, think we can pull it off better than Nat?” 

Tony simply stares at Steve’s smile, a smile that seemed to light up the entire dim hotel room, before he felt his own lips curl into a smirk. “Is that a challenge, Rogers?” 

_Current_  
**April 23rd — 11:34 P.M.**

The two of them exchange worried looks in the darkness before Tony starts taking note of more of their surroundings, trying to mentally map a quick and easy exit. 

_Another table to the left, a few chairs scattered around it, a filing cabinet next to the table,_ Tony rapidly maps the room, though the voices are getting closer and he realizes that he can hear their conversation. He feels Steve stiffen beside him. 

“I’m telling you I don’t know where the second key went!” A voice yells, distressed and masculine. Tony recognizes it as the person he bumped into earlier in order to get the elevator key. “It could have slipped out of my pocket. One of those bitches I was messing around with earlier could have stolen it. Listen, I really doubt that if anyone did pick it up, they would be here.” As the man quickly speaks, trying to prove his innocence, Tony remembers that the key is in his back pocket. 

“We can’t afford maybes,” this voice is deeper, and hell if it didn’t sound like a voice that belonged to a big boss or administrator, “we need to do a sweep of this room immediately. Take note of anything out of place, whether any paper, any chair, anything. Now!” 

“Left,” Tony whispers to Steve, quiet enough just so the two of them can hear it, “go left. There’s a small window there.” 

“How do you know?” Steve asks incredulously, just as quiet if not quieter. 

“I don’t. We’re winging it.” 

Steve looks like he’s about to argue but to Tony’s relief he closes his mouth and nods. He leads the way, making sure to remain crouching down so they don’t alert anyone. In the corner of his eye, Tony can see flashlights beginning to turn on, and he’s glad that they’re closer to the far end of the room. 

Once they make it to the far left side of the room, Tony wastes no time in looking for a possible exit and, lo and behold, there is a small window a few feet above a cluttered desk. Tony scrambles on top of the desk while Steve makes sure to let him know how much time they have while also knocking over chairs and other obstacles to buy some time. Tucking the folder under his arm, Tony tries prying the window open – and to no avail. 

The voices get louder. Panic begins to take a hold of Tony’s throat. Tony tries again but the window only budges a little, not enough to fully open. 

“Open it! You’re a supersoldier! Dad didn’t hop you up on drugs for nothing.” Tony urgently orders as he moves over to the desk to make room as Steve climbs up it. Steve obliges and hooks his hands underneath the window, pulling it up. Unfortunately, and Tony realizes this too late, that having super strength also means not being able to control it at all times. 

The sound of the window breaking, accompanied by shattering glass scattering across the floor, echoes through the room and the voices get louder, and much closer. White flashes bounce off the walls and thudding footsteps accompany them, like thunder following lightning. 

“What’s the plan?” Steve shouts to Tony above the noise, rolling up the sleeve of his suit jacket, most likely expecting a fight. That, unfortunately, is not on Tony’s agenda for today. 

“The plan? Haul ass! Get through the window, Rogers, I’ll go last. If they catch a glimpse of you and your super soldier muscles, we’re toast.” Before Steve is able to protest like Tony knows he would, Tony shoves him towards the window, and thankfully the urgency of his actions seem to register because Steve obliges and climbs through at a record speed. 

Tony pushes the file folder through the window first before he starts to climb up as well, wincing as some broken glass digs into his hands. By the time he scrambles out onto the pavement, Steve grabbing the files and also reaching out to help him up (though Tony rejects his hand), a bright white light streams through the broken window, followed by shouting and a string of colorful words. 

Tony takes that as their cue to run towards their rental car as if their lives depended on it because in this situation, they do. 

**April 24th – 12:23 A.M.**

“Do you think they saw our faces?” Steve asks after a long moment of silence as the both of them prepare the hotel room for temporary lockdown, which includes shutting the blinds, drawing the curtains closed, locking the door, and putting a chair in front of the doorknob. The basics of temporary quarters safety. 

“No, we were out of there before they could see us. Worst case scenario, one of them saw my ass,” Tony responds nonchalantly as he sits on the edge of the bed and screws a tiny screw into his watch. He had been tinkering with it ever since they rushed into the hotel room, constantly looking over their backs to make sure they weren’t being followed. Steve even took a few different routes to the hotel to shake off potential threats, their ridiculously old rental car barely driving along. Tony had already made a few mental notes to fix it one day or another. 

“Do you get the odd feeling that we’re bad at this?” 

“Bad at this?” Tony scoffs, pressing a button on his watch and speaking in a suddenly feminine voice, “This is our first time and I think we did great. In fact, I think we can replace Nat and Birdie on every mission from now on. Fury is popping champagne bottles and hugging every agent he sees as we speak. Houston, we’ve done it!” 

“Wow, how did you do that to your voice?” Steve’s voice is laced with awe as he walks over to Tony and looks down at his watch, the screen showing “W1”, and before long Steve figures it out. Not that Tony is surprised. Steve has a knack for figuring out modern technology quickly, despite what many people believe. “You’re disguising your voice.” 

“Of course! What if one of them shows up in a maid outfit calling out room service and is only using it to find out who’s in here? We can’t risk that.” 

Tony looks up and sees Steve arching an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re really bent on something spontaneous like that happening? Do they even know that we’re men?” 

The genius simply shrugs his shoulders, pressing another button and returning his voice to normal. “Probably not, but we need time to read and dissect the files. I’m not in the mood for kicking butt at the same time and this will come in handy soon, you’ll see.” He casts a look at the files he ran off with, a sinister pile of papers barely held together by a beige folder. The folder sat on the nightstand next to the bed that Tony called for himself, the one nearest to the door. Steve wanted the same bed, most likely for the same exact reason, but Tony won the rock-paper-scissors match they had so by those sacred rules it is rightfully his, and Steve got stuck with the bed next to the window. 

Tony reaches over and takes the folder, dumping it on his lap as Steve unties his tie and carefully places it on a nearby chair. As he does so, he looks at Tony as he points at the bathroom a few feet away from the beds, “I’m going to go take a shower. I need to wash all this stuff out of my hair. Unless you need me to start looking at the files, too?” 

Tony snorts and opens the file, skimming through the various papers that are held inside, which include a small handful of photos, though he mainly sees blocks of text. “I’ll be fine by myself, trust me. I’m the only one on the team who ever does the reading anyway. You do all the punchy stuff.” 

He hears Steve murmur a retort but at that point, he is too engrossed in the files to pay attention. Names, dates, and addresses flash through his eyes but so far, nothing seems completely out of ordinary. Well, out of the ordinary in terms of criminal activity. It isn’t until a few minutes afterwards that something catches Tony’s eye, and he has to read it over a few times in order to fully process it. When he does, he feels a stone form in his stomach. 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

“This might be bigger than we thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is 100% spontaneous and impulsive, but i like the idea! i'm really excited to write more, but since it's impulsive i don't have an outline, so would you guys wanna see me finish this up? it'll be a somewhat lengthy fic!  
> anyways, lemme know what you think! comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	2. Sunny Side Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony thinks he knows Steve: the truth is, he falls flat on his face when it comes to minuscule details. Both the mission and Steve are mysteries to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! i'm starting to dig writing chapters for this fic so i'll most likely do it more often, but i don't have a solid update schedule done yet. for now, bet on at least one chapter a week (or every two weeks if i'm busy).   
> also, i absolutely adore writing interactions like these, where both are clearly pining but they don't know it yet and are just confused 24/7. it's so much fun.

**April 24th – 3:01 A.M.**

_Time really flies when you’re trying to dissect a folder the size of a vacation packet to find out why a secret group of people are bent on human testing and possible weaponry._

That is the one thought running through Tony’s mind as he lies in bed, arms behind his back, his eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling above him. After processing the documents on his laptop and sending them on their way to Fury, both Tony and Steve agreed to get some rest, but Tony finds it hard to sleep with all of this new information on his mind. The files described, in great detail, plans involving human testing to make them more “useful,” and both of them had cringed once they found out what that word truly meant in that context. 

“Batteries have a short life span, right?” Tony had said earlier that night as they examined the various papers, beginning to explain it not only for Steve’s sake but for his own, too. “You throw them away once they run out of juice and buy some new ones. But what if you can have a battery that lasts for years? More than ten years? More than twenty? What will you need to accomplish that?” 

“A human.” Steve finished grimly, and he looked just as disgusted as Tony felt. “Can’t they just invent a better one?” 

“Yes, easily. I can probably do it with my hands tied behind my back. Not exactly cost efficient but I don’t see how constantly managing another human in order to keep them alive is. There’s most likely another motive behind this. They can’t be doing this just because they want to save a few bucks.” 

After reading through a few more files, they ended up with just as much information as they discussed in their earlier conversation, no more and no less. They had barely any names, no leads, and only one address that has no explanation associated with it and is therefore left vague. The pile of papers that once looked monstrous proved to be nothing more than white sheets filled to the brim with empty and meaningless words. Eventually, Steve pointed out that they weren’t going to get anywhere with the information they currently had and that they should call it a night while the documents finish sending. Tony didn’t want to rest considering the circumstances, but he didn’t have much of an argument so he didn’t put up much of a fight. 

Now it’s three in the morning. They both showered, relieved to have their hair back to normal, took out contact lenses that changed their eye colors, stripped themselves of their formal clothes and tossed them carelessly around the hotel room, put on clothes that _slightly_ resemble pajamas, and crawled under the covers. Despite this, Tony didn’t expect to fall asleep. By now he’s lost count of how many minutes have gone by. All he can do is _think._

Tony knows well enough that Steve is still awake, too, even though he didn’t sneak a glance at him yet. He’s willing to bet all of his money as well as his company on it. Back in Afghanistan, Tony would lull himself to sleep by listening to the sounds of Yinsen softly breathing while he slept, taking comfort in the sound of another human being in a cave so isolated and dark. He’s grown so accustomed to listening to it that he now knows how to tell whether someone is awake or not simply by paying attention to their breathing patterns, and to be honest Tony feels like it’s a talent that he could comfortably live without. 

“Can’t sleep?” Steve finally breaks the silence with two simple words, simultaneously breaking Tony away from his train of thought. 

“Human _testing,_ Rogers. That’s just fucked up.” Tony emphasizes, his chest beginning to ache with frustration as words continue to spill out of his mouth. “It’s not exactly a great bedtime story if you know what I mean.” 

“Yeah.” Steve quietly agrees. “But we’ll stop them. We already know ten times as much as we did before we raided their secret base. Or, maybe not that much, but we still know a lot more.” 

Tony wishes they can go in there with their guns blazing, ready to kick ass, but even in this situation he knows that it won’t be a good idea. After all, they know nearly nothing about the group, and this might just be a small part of it. Going in there would only force them into hiding and inspire them to be more careful when going about their schemes. Still, he hates the idea of there being people out there suffering while he just lays back in a five-star hotel room on the coast. 

As if reading his mind, Steve adds in a pathetically hopeful voice, “The files said that they don’t have their next victim yet, so that gives us a little more time to figure things out.” 

“You and I both know that isn’t the good news we need right now,” he says, a bitter and metallic taste rising in his mouth. He expects another response out of Steve but instead gets nothing, and after a while he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. When he turns his head to look at Steve, he realizes that Steve is already looking at him, a mixture of concern and curiosity on his face. They make eye contact for a few brief moments but it feels like forever. 

“We should get some sleep.” Steve murmurs before he gives Tony one last look and turns on his side, breaking eye contact with him. Tony waits for a few minutes, staring at the form of Steve, his body slightly illuminated by the moon’s reflected light streaming through the cracks of the blinds, before doing the same, met with the sight of the faraway closed door to their room. 

Despite Steve’s words, neither of them end up getting a wink of sleep. 

**April 24th – 7:42 A.M.**

Steve was the one who dragged Tony out of the confines of the hotel room and downstairs into the dining area, where free breakfast is being served from seven to nine in the morning. 

Once Tony stopped complaining and begrudgingly agreed to accompany Steve (though he swore it was just so he can get some coffee), they both changed into something more casual, since they are still undercover after all, and they decided to look like tourists fresh out of the city. That meant a pretentious black T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and his signature sunglasses for Tony, while Steve wore a more “dad-at-his-son’s-junior-league-baseball-game” look with a baseball cap, a light blue T-shirt, and light faded jeans. Basically, in Tony’s opinion, they looked like themselves but heavily downgraded. The Arc Reactor thankfully shone very faintly underneath his black shirt, barely noticeable, and if anyone asked he can always say it’s part of the shirt’s design. 

The sunlight streams through the large windows of the ground level of the hotel, and the pearly white interior design doesn’t make it any less blinding. Barely anyone is around despite the free food, though Tony supposes that if they can afford a five-star hotel, then they can wake up whenever they please. Tony is relieved that there are no crowds – even if he is undercover, he still feels like he’s going to stumble across an over-enthusiastic reporter with so many personal questions that would make Tony feel like he has his own personal therapist. 

“Wish you had sunglasses like me?” Tony teases as he watches Steve adjust his baseball cap so it shields his eyes more. They are leaning up against the counter where the coffee machines are located, and Tony is waiting for his coffee to finish brewing. The air smells of pancakes, syrup, coffee, tea, and various other breakfast foods, creating an overall sweet aroma that helps Tony feel more at ease. 

Steve rolls his eyes. “We’re both wearing things with the same exact purpose. I just look like less of a…” his voice trails off and Tony devilishly grins. 

“A what? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you for a second, could you repeat that, Mr. Rogers?” Tony playfully leans closer, cupping his hand around his ear. “You look like less of a what? Hm? Would you mind speaking up a little?” 

“An asshole.” 

Tony is about to dramatically gasp in shock, already prepared with an entire speech to give to Steve about language, until he feels a rough bump on his back and he stumbles, nearly falling into Steve in the process. Thankfully he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling as embarrassed as he would have if that unfortunate event did occur. 

“Do you mind?” he snaps at the confused person behind him, who is most likely the culprit of the shove. “Do you even _know_ who I am?” 

The person, a man in his mid-thirties with a pretentious red Polo shirt on, as well as beige shorts and boat shoes, lifts up his hands in mock surrender. “My bad. I was just putting some sugar in my coffee, I guess I didn’t watch where I was going. Did anything spill?” 

“No, nothing spilled.” Steve pitches in, in a voice that is too cheerful for Tony’s liking. “Don’t worry about it, son, it was an honest mistake.” 

The man smiles in response to Steve’s friendly disposition and softly sighs. However, he begins blinking rapidly before donning a confused look, eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open, as he points a finger at Tony and slides it to Steve, and then back to Tony. “Are you two…uh, together?” 

As the man struggled to get his sentence out earlier, Tony had finished preparing his cup of coffee in the meantime and now holds it to his lips, more than grateful for the first sip. Unfortunately, as soon as the stranger finally speaks again, he ends up immediately regretting it. 

Tony chokes on his coffee. He pounds his fist against the small space above his Arc Reactor and below his throat, coughing and feeling his face redden as he attempts to get air back into his lungs. Naturally, Steve is useless in this situation, simply standing next to him frozen as if he got transported back into the 1940s. Tony finds himself glad that he isn’t lending a helping hand, though, since he is 99.9% sure that a slap on his back from Steve would cause all of his bones to shatter. He has enough problems as it is. 

“Oh! Um, no. We’re not.” Steve awkwardly explains, and through vision blurred from tears Tony sees him rubbing the back of his neck, his ears a bright crimson. “We’re just traveling together. Do you have any recommended places we visit?” 

_Smart subject change,_ Tony mentally congratulates, though he doesn’t say anything aloud and instead straightens his posture, clears his throat, and takes a much more careful and dignified sip of his coffee. His face continues to burn and he knows very well that it’s still red, which is why he is thankful for the chance to blame it on his near-death moment seconds ago if anyone asks. 

The man seems to have forgotten the earlier incident because he smiles and begins rambling, “Well, there is the beach a few miles away from the hotel. It’s one of my favorite places to go, the ocean there is a little rough but you’ll get used to it.” 

“We’re from New York, it’s the same ocean here as it is there,” Tony points out with his cup of coffee barely touching his lips, interrupting the man and earning himself a glare that basically spells out “don’t be rude” from Steve. He simply shrugs his shoulders and feigns innocence. He’s in no mood to listen to the stranger speak to them as if they came from Kansas, with their little cowboy boots and a dog named Toto. 

“Huh…” The man’s eyebrows raise as he makes eye contact with Tony, who mirrors the movement, “you remind me of someone.” 

“Tony Stark? Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist? Sometimes known as Iron Man?” 

“That’s it!” The man smiles and snaps his fingers. 

Steve has stiffened beside Tony, clearly expecting Tony to blow their cover but for once, Tony isn’t going to own up to his famous identity for the sake of feeding his pride. “I wish I were him. I copied his beard and I even dyed my hair – can you believe I used to be a blonde like this man? Or can you see my roots? – but I just can’t get it right. He’s simply too amazing, but I think that I’m pretty close.” 

“You and me both, dude,” The man shakes his head, clumsily placing the lid over his coffee cup, “you and me both.” 

Finally, the conversation comes to a close after a few remaining sentences, and a lot of empty promises from Steve to check out the places the man recommended. Tony watches the man leave and then flashes a shit-eating grin to Steve, “Are you going to go get a sun-tan while I work my ass off trying to find out where to go from here? Bring me back a seashell, will you?” 

“I was just trying to be polite. He didn’t mean us any harm.” 

Deciding not to continue with the direction their conversation took, Tony begins to walk in the direction of a small table with chairs in the corner of the empty dining area, making sure that no one is anywhere within earshot of them before settling down on one of the chairs closest to the wall, placing his coffee cup down on the table. Steve takes the chair across from him, staring as Tony makes himself more comfortable, “Are you done?” 

Leaning to the side with one elbow propped up on one arm of the chair, one leg hanging off the other side of the chair, and one leg bent at the knee with his shoe resting on the surface of the chair, Tony looks at Steve through his sunglasses. “You have a problem, Rogers?” 

Steve doesn’t say anything, instead stuffing his hand into his pocket to fish out a crumpled up map. Tony watches as Steve spreads the map over the surface of the table and carefully traces his fingers over the surface of the map, as if he’s afraid to accidentally poke a hole in it or crease it despite it being just a visitor’s map and nothing of value. 

“The only solid address we have is all the way across the city,” he mentions, remembering the address by heart despite only reading it a select few times, “and I don’t know about you but I’m not feeling city traffic today. It’s a weekend in April and you bet your ass that everyone is going to bustling in here. We’re going to be stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for hours.” 

Steve immediately catches on to what Tony implied and offers him a hearty healthy, “No.” 

“Oh, come on! Do you seriously want to sit in a car with me for hours? Think about it, Cap. Think long and hard. I might just have to kill you by the end of the first hour and I sure as hell will do it while a Britney Spears song is playing.” 

Steve snorts and Tony almost smiles despite their debate. Keyword: almost. “We can’t risk it. Fury is right, if we blow our cover then they’ll just go into hiding and we’ll never pick their trail up again until it’s too late.” 

Deep down, Tony knows that Steve is right but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to continue the argument for whatever reason currently unknown to him. He thoughtfully chews on the inside of his cheek, staring at the doors behind Steve. His attention is forcefully torn away as a waitress walks up to their secluded table, a small but kind smile on her face. She has strawberry blonde hair, hazel eyes, and appears to have a generally sunny disposition that matches the bright lighting of the dining room. On one of her hands is a perfectly balanced plate and Tony cranes his neck in an attempt to see what it is, trying to remember if he ordered breakfast or not. Before he can ask, the waitress smiles at Steve and hands him the plate, “Your order, Mr. Boreman.” 

“Sunny side ups? I always thought you were an omelets type of guy.” Tony admits, surprised that he turned out to be wrong. For someone who believes that he’s right 99.9% of the time, this is more than a huge blow to his pride. 

“I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me, then,” he casually says as he takes the plate from the waitress and warmly thanks her as she leaves. Tony isn’t sure why but some part of him takes Steve’s response as a challenge, though before he can force stupid and borderline impulsive words out of his mouth, the subject changes. 

“Don’t you need breakfast?” Steve asks in the middle of stuffing his fork into his egg and Tony waves his coffee cup in front of his face in response. Frowning, he shakes his head, “You’re not seriously going to try to get through today without eating something, are you? You’ll pass out.” 

“Contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I’m doing because I’ve done it before hundreds of times and hey, I’m still fine.” Even Tony knows that it’s a lie, but thankfully the conversation is dropped as quickly as it had been picked up. However, Tony doesn’t miss the glances that Steve throws at him every now and then. His bright blue eyes seem to be able to see through his soul and that is mildly unnerving. 

Eventually, Steve picks it up again. “Just have one.” 

“No, thanks.” Tony blatantly rejects. “And don’t you dare make those puppy eyes, Rogers! You know what, I’m not even going to look at you, how about that?” He briskly turns away but he still feels Steve’s eyes on him, and he knows that the blonde bastard knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. For a handful of seconds, Tony’s method works like a charm, but eventually Steve ends up besting him and he throws his head back as he groans in defeat, “Okay, okay, fine. Just one. This is manipulation at its finest, I hope you know that.” 

“Whatever you say, drama king,” he says in a smug tone of voice, one that makes Tony’s frown deepen but he pushes up his chair closer to Steve regardless, though he makes sure that they aren’t close enough to touch elbows and not invade each other’s personal bubbles. Steve pushes an egg aside for Tony and he murmurs a “thank you’ in response, and a silence falls upon them again, though this time it feels much more comfortable to Tony for some reason. 

Once Steve finishes up his breakfast and Tony drains his cup of every last drop of coffee (and finishes his egg), they both disperse back into their hotel room, where everything is exactly as they left it. Their beds are messy despite not being slept in, their suits from last night are still in random places such as the top of the chair or the surface of the table, and everything remains in temporary lockdown mode. The files are the only things kept organized and well-hidden, as both of them knew better than to leave them outside in plain sight. 

“You wanna know something, Capsicle? I still think that I should fly us there.” 

Steve groans. “Are you _still_ on that?” 

“I’m just saying.” 

“It won’t work! We’ll be risking too much. Do you even have your suit with you?” 

“Yes,” he says as if it’s obvious because he thinks that it should be, “I always take it with me. You think I’m going to show up on an undercover mission without my suit? What if things go wrong? What are you going to do? Hit them with a suitcase? Huh? Give them a good old-fashioned suitcase-concussion? A suit-cussion?” 

“You’re impossible.”

“Really? Did they not put that detail in my file? Right next to ‘textbook narcissism’?” 

They both fall silent but the air around them remains slightly tense, hanging over them like a dark cloud. Tony has nothing more to say for now, so he decides to try to busy himself with more adjustments to his already overly advanced watch, only to have his phone ring once again. They both stare at it for a few seconds, and Tony notices that this time the caller ID is different. He supposes that it’s a security measure, as Natasha had once told him that Fury sometimes contacted her with different phone numbers to erase the chances of one phone number being traced back to one location. 

After debating if he should let it go to voicemail or not, Tony picks up the phone and leans against the chair, “Mr. Fury, I’d like a new partner for this project. Mine isn’t a team player.” He hears Steve scoff. 

“If there’s anyone who isn’t a team player there, it’s probably you,” the voice on the other end states matter-o-factly, and Tony has to mentally agree. “Please tell me that you two found something and that you’re not hanging upside down over a pit of acid.” 

“No, we’ve got the files. They’re in the middle of being processed and sent to you right now.” 

There’s an incredibly long sigh of relief. _Did Fury seriously think we couldn’t even get through the first day?_ “Okay, good, we’ll look over them once we get the chance. Do you have a plan for how to take these guys down figured out? Or any next move, at that?” 

Tony opens his mouth to respond, prepared to say that they’re going with his idea, then instantly closes it. His eyes wander from the hem of his jacket, which he’s been mindlessly picking at, to look at Steve. 

“Well? What’s your next move?” Fury presses. 

Steve looks expectantly at Tony, and Tony hesitates for another moment, thinking his over his options. Normally Steve makes all of the final decisions during Avengers missions, since he is the leader of them after all, but now they’re a team and both of them are on equal standing. The decision is fair game. 

“I’m thinking a road trip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! lemme know what you think!   
> comments and kudos are always appreciated and help keep me going, thank you!


	3. Temporarily Fired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the worst that can happen with a reckless engineer, a man out of his time, and a car on the verge of keeling over going on a road trip?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me updating this fic is the equivalent of me screaming into the void. local idiot man keeps updating this fic.  
> also, this chapter is a little longer than the others.

**April 24th – 1:14 P.M.**

Steve is one of the only people Tony trusts to be in the driver’s seat of a car. 

Tony isn’t sure why but he feels more at ease with Steve behind the wheel than anyone else, even if Steve is out of his century. Tony has feared letting other people drive him places for years ever since the death of his parents and his kidnapping in Afghanistan, all of those occurring when he wasn’t the one behind the wheel. Tony usually refused to let anyone in the driver’s seat but the night before, Tony was the one who lunged towards the passenger seat as the two of them sped off with a large folder of files, and today seems to be no different. It’s curious, but Tony has a lot on his mind and he doesn’t have the time to analyze it. 

As soon as Tony had confirmed their next move to Fury, who approved of it, they grabbed their fake I.D.s and left. They had no time to waste and Tony was itching to get things done. Naturally, they got stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for at least an hour or two – perhaps even more! – and Tony made it a habit of letting out some colorful words while Steve seemed to be resisting the urge to hit a hole through the steering wheel. The sky, now a headache-inducing bright blue rather than painted with the pale orange and yellow colors of the sunrise, made Tony glad that he is a sunglasses enthusiast. 

Finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Steve made a right turn and that smaller street led to an emptier, calmer road with barely any cars traveling on it. Tony could have cried at the sight. They both breathed sighs of relief and laughed and turned the music up, trying to make the most out of their trip there, finally free from the clutches of traffic and the poor driving skills that plague the East Coast. Naturally, this type of bliss only lasted for fifteen minutes at most. 

First the car starts making a ticking sound. 

Then it starts to get hotter inside the car despite the air conditioner being on. 

The car eventually begins to slow down. Tony, knowing that this is definitely not a good sign, tells Steve to pull over on the side of the road and he does. 

Less than two minutes later, the car screeches to a halt. 

Tony waits until the car eventually stops before he casts Steve a knowing look, “I told you so.” As much as he wants to continue to gloat, however, he feels a twinge of guilt settle in his chest as he watches the corners of Steve’s mouth drop to form a frown as he shifts it to park, just so they wouldn’t roll away. He looks so _disappointed._ Tony amends his tone, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Did you forget that you have a genius mechanic by your side?” 

“You don’t even have your tools.” Steve protests as Tony clambers out of the car and makes his way towards the hood of the car. “How are you going to fix it without them?” 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Geez, Steve, were you even listening to a word I was saying? Did you somehow miss the ‘genius’ part? I don’t think it’d be too narcissistic to say that I can do anything I want with whatever I want.” 

As soon as he finishes the sentence he pops the hood of the car open and props it up, Steve coming up to stand beside him. 

“Fuck!” Tony snaps as he finally gets a good look at the engine and notices the tendrils of steam rising from it. This is the last thing he needs. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, concerned by Tony’s short outburst. 

“Our engine overheated. I think there’s a leak somewhere where all of the coolant goes out,” Tony explains quickly, keeping his eyes on the engine, “we’re going to have to wait and let it air out before I can work on it, otherwise pressurized hot coolant will spray on my face.” As much as Tony didn’t want to wait in the sun on an empty road (to be honest, he is very surprised that it’s empty. They got lucky and their address led them to the other side of the city but on barren streets surrounded by green and yellow grass that seemed to stretch for miles). 

With that said, Tony slides down in front of the car, sitting on the pavement, and he looks up to see Steve doing the same. It shouldn’t take long for the engine to cool down especially since the hood is open and it’s airing out but he doubts that it’ll take a handful of seconds. 

“What do you think we’ll find there? Once we get there?” 

“That’s _if_ we get there, Rogers, don’t forget that we have a broken engine to fix.” 

“Oh, come on, Tony. You’re one of the smartest men I know, this is going to be a piece of cake for you.” 

Tony feels a smile form almost instinctively. “Really? You know a few other men smarter than me?” He laughs as Steve gently punches him in the upper arm, which stings only a little, which is strange considering Steve’s super strength. Then again, he’s sure that Steve would be punching holes through everyone if he isn’t able to control it. 

“You went undercover with Nat before, right?” Tony remembers; neither Nat nor Steve told him about it in detail and frankly, Tony never cared enough to ask but he supposes that with their current circumstances and simply because he has nothing better to say, he might as well help pass the time. 

Steve nods his head, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his arms on them as he stares at the road ahead of them. “Yeah, a few years ago. She was difficult to work with at first but when I got to know her better, we were a great team. She really is skilled at what she does. She also made me kiss her to distract people following us.” He lets out a small laugh at the end of his sentence; clearly the memory is very fond to him. 

“ _You_ kissed _Nat_? Natasha as in Black Widow? And you’re still _alive_ to tell the tale?” Tony echoes as his brain processes what Steve just told him. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that happening on this mission, so consider this a lucky break from those awkward moments.” 

“Yeah, it definitely is.” Tony notices that Steve’s laugh sounds a little different as he says that, but he doesn’t think about it too much. However, he gets a weird feeling in his chest as he mulls over his own words, but thankfully before he can think too much about it he suddenly remembers the reason why they’re sitting rather pathetically on the road. 

“I think the engine is done cooling down. Let’s get this baby fixed and hit the road.”

* * *

The stone in Tony’s stomach forms into something sharper by the time they reach the address. He tries not to pay attention to the way his breathing gradually becomes shallower and how the urge to fidget in his seat becomes almost unbearable. That’s not even the worst part, though. The worst part is that he _knows_ that Steve notices something off in his behavior, too, and he can tell from the glances that the other man keeps tossing at him every now and then. 

Tony has handled other missions before perfectly fine – or at least close to fine. He isn’t certain why his anxiety is deciding to act up now out of all times, especially when they don’t know what they’re going to find, but he certainly does not appreciate it. 

Finally, Tony has had enough of Steve’s not-so inconspicuous looks towards him. “What are you looking at?” 

Steve seems to be surprised that he’s called out but he quickly recovers, clearing his throat. “Are you alright?” 

“Eyes on the road before you run somebody over. Didn’t anybody ever teach you that?” he promptly ignores the question and responds sharply, and almost immediately regrets it. Mentally cursing himself in multiple different languages, Tony bites his tongue to keep from saying anything else, staring out the window, watching the waves of grass roll by. However, after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, Tony murmurs in a voice just loud enough for Steve to be able to hear, “I’m sorry.” 

Steve offers him a reassuring smile and Tony takes it as forgiveness. As they drive closer to their destination, Tony is surprised to see that it isn’t a dark, looming building or a secluded laboratory like he expected but rather a three-story office building with faded letters on the sign beside it and a serious vegetation problem as vines seem to reach every crack and crevice of the building. Graffiti is all over the outer walls, painting the pale brown bricks of the building various different colors, yet those colors are slightly faded, too, most likely done away by time and weather. The windows are all in decent shape compared to the rest of the building, dirty and cracked in some places but overall in one piece. The nearby parking lot is empty save for a single beaten down car, most likely a desperate parking situation since Tony doubts there’s a space anywhere else. 

“Welcome to paradise.” Steve notes as he parks the car a safe distance away from the building and turns off the ignition and makes his way out of it, Tony scrambling out after him. 

“Is that a music reference? I didn’t know you were a Green Day fan.” 

“Well, you did tell me to listen to some of their music, didn’t you?” Steve looks back at him as they make their way towards the entrance. Truth be told, Tony is surprised that Steve remembered and actually listened to him, especially since they were both pretty tipsy at the time of the conversation. They both stop and stand a few feet in front of the front doors, which are closed but obviously not locked. 

“Y’know what I’m thinking? We walk right in, take what we need, and walk right back out and be back by dinner so I can get some five-star hotel wine.” Tony says as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, the action seeming casual but actually being a way to wipe his hands against the fabric of his jeans. _Why am I so fucking anxious about this?_

“You don’t think there’s anyone in here? No security cameras or anything like that?” 

“Do you think they’d do their weird experiments in broad daylight?” Tony challenges before his attention flickers to the watch on his wrist. “Let me know what we’re dealing with, Fri.” 

“No heat signatures detected inside.” Friday reports. 

Tony throws a smug “I told you so” glance at Steve, who rolls his eyes. “I feel like we should have bet money on that. I’m in the mood to be ten dollars richer.” 

Despite Friday’s words, they creep inside slowly and cautiously, making sure to quietly close the doors behind them. It’s oddly quiet inside, quiet enough for Tony to hear birds chirping outside. Sunlight streams through the windows, making the white interior seem whiter, resembling a hospital in a way. The floor is dirty and the walls have a multitude of stains and cracks of different shapes and sizes but other than that, it seems like it’s only recently been abandoned. In a way, that only seems to unnerve Tony more. 

They spend a few minutes rummaging through various rooms, all of them rather small and empty. Tony always goes ahead, managing to read papers in record time, therefore deciphering between a lunch schedule and something important. Steve trails behind, making sure that they won’t get ambushed even though Tony is confident that Friday was right about there being no humans in the building currently, other than them. He also goes through what Tony might have missed, since Tony is quick but often careless in his approach. 

By the time they reach the third floor, they have nothing of substance to go off of and Tony is frustrated beyond words. _What a fucking waste of my time._ He stomps up the stairs and shoves the door to one of the few rooms on the floor open, narrowing his eyes as he takes in the small display of a neat desk and a shut off laptop with the screen still propped up. Curious but prepared to be disappointed once again, Tony saunters over to it, one hand stuffed in his pocket. He experimentally taps against the keyboard of the laptop and nothing happens. He taps against the touchpad and even goes as far as holding down the power button, and still gets no reaction. 

“Figures,” he murmurs under his breath, “they really like getting my hopes up.” He looks at the flashdrive jammed into the side of the laptop, a small and thin black device with no identification or anything; it looks like something Tony can find in the sale aisle at a small nearby office supply department. He might as well take a souvenir. 

As he reaches for it, however, he feels his anxiety suddenly spike. Something about this process seems too easy and convenient. The flashdrive has a chance of being useless, yes, but it also has a chance of being important. He hesitates, drawing his hand away as if the flashdrive will burn him if he makes contact, before he shakes his head in disappointment towards himself. 

_If I’m going to do something dangerous and potentially life-threatening, then I might as well do it in style,_ Tony muses as he confidently pulls the flashdrive out of the laptop. As soon as he does so, the computer screen flashes once and a bright red countdown appears, starting from 00:05:00, which translates to zero hours, five minutes, and zero seconds. 

The clock then changes to show 00:04:59. 

Realization hits Tony like a brick. 

_No wonder this place felt off. This isn’t where we’re supposed to be. It’s a trap. I fucked up and fell for it. I’m going to get Steve killed!_ His thoughts endlessly race in his head and it’s actually the last one that finally kicks him into action. Stuffing the flashdrive into his pocket, Tony rushes out of the room, nearly barreling straight into Steve, who was apparently planning to enter the room as well. 

“Tony?” Ignoring Steve’s confused tone of voice, Tony grabs his arm and starts to drag him forward. “What are you doing?” 

“We have what we need, so let’s scram.” 

“Please don’t tell me you blew something up.” 

“Are you kidding me? Have a little faith in me, Cap,” Tony laughs bitterly before he adds in a much more serious tone of voice, “But really, the building is about to blow up, so unless you want paramedics to try stitching our bodies back together like some screwed up jigsaw puzzle, you better use those supersoldier legs and run.” 

“Excuse me, it’s going to _what_?” Steve sounds angry and worried at the same time, and Tony doesn’t blame him at all. 

“Don’t you get it? ABORT MISSION!” Tony yells as loud as he can as he roughly tugs Steve along and Steve obliges this time, shooting a panicked and accusatory look at Tony before he dons an almost steely and calculating expression that only a true leader can wear. When Tony tries to turn a corner, Steve grabs his arm and sets him back on the right track, shouting something about there being a quicker way to get to the exit. 

Tony counts the seconds in his head in time with their rapid footsteps. His chest begins to ache as his lungs, with their reduced capacity due to lack of space as a result of the Arc Reactor imbedded in his chest, protest against the small amount of air they’re getting. Steve is much faster than him and Tony knows that he can easily outrun him, but for some reason Steve stays in close proximity. _A soldier’s duty, probably. Steve will never leave someone behind._

As they burst through the front doors, Tony knows that their time is incredibly limited and they need to be a good distance away to avoid getting seriously injured. Clumsily pressing a button on his watch that causes the gauntlet from his suit to appear over his hand, Tony resists the urge to ask Steve if he’s still mad that he brought some parts of his suit along. 

“Get ready, Steve!” Tony shouts as he outstretches his arm and points the gauntlet towards the wall near the front doors, the area closest to them. Then, without waiting for a confirmation from Steve, he powers up the repulsor and fires away, the momentum of the blast from his gauntlet launching both of them forward by a few feet. Tony knows that it’s not enough to send them to a safe distance but it did give them a head start, and for now that’s all that matters. 

They trip, stumble, fall, curse, help each other up, and continue sprinting to their pathetic rental car. Tony sneaks one look back and he catches the building collapse in on itself, a loud rumbling noise filling his ears. He spots smoke rising from the ground and before he can notice anything else, the vibrations on the ground cause him to stumble and he immediately curls in on himself, covering his head with his arms just in case any debris comes flying at him. 

Finally, after seconds that pass by like hours, the ground stops shaking. Tony tentatively lifts his head up, wrinkling his nose at the smell of smoke. Still on the ground, he tilts his head and looks around him, searching for the familiar sight of Steve next to him. When he sees nothing but grass and dust around him, his stomach lurches and a crushing weight presses down on his chest. 

“Cap? Rogers? Steve?” Tony finds himself calling out, surprised that he even has the voice to do it after being so close to an explosion. His ears ring loudly despite the fact that they were thankfully able to avoid the blast and be at a safe enough distance away. If he weren’t so terrified for Steve, he would definitely be having flashbacks to Afghanistan. When he doesn’t hear a response, he immediately stands up, his facial features contorting to an expression that can only be described as one of pure terror. “ _Steve_?” 

Tony feels a hand drop on his shoulder and his instincts kick in. He turns around so quickly it makes him dizzy, raising his hand above his head, preparing to throw a desperate punch only to have another hand clamp around his fist, stopping any momentum. 

“Whoa, hey, I thought you said I was doing the punchy business!” Steve gasps as he catches Tony’s fist in one hand. Tony quickly eyeballs him; his hair is all over the place and he has a considerable amount of dust covering his clothes, but other than that he seems alright. Relief floods over Tony like a tidal wave and his once tense shoulders relax. If he didn’t have an ounce of self-control left, he probably would have hugged Steve but not all has left him, so he simply remains standing on shaky legs. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of life-and-death moments, it’s in the job description.” Tony says, trying to muster as much wit as possible into his voice. “I thought you were…sleeping with the fishes. You really do love messing with my heart condition, huh?” As Steve opens his mouth, most likely to apologize profusely, Tony pulls his fist away from Steve’s hand and lets it rest against his own thigh. “We better get out of here. I have a feeling the cops will show up here any minute and not take kindly to this mess, and we’re no maids.” 

There isn’t much room for argument, so both of the clamber back into the car and hit the gas, speeding away from the smoking remains of the building. As Tony takes a peek in one of the mirrors, he sees the tendrils of smoke slowly rising to the sky, painting the bright blue sky a hazy pastel color. 

It’s only after they stumble back into the hotel room, slamming the door behind them, that Tony realizes his hands are still shaking. 

**April 24th – 5:15 P.M.**

“I’m assuming that the explosion of the old office building in Virginia was not related to you?” 

Tony buries his face in his hands, groaning loudly even though it’s muffled. “They put that address in the files as a trap, Nat. They knew that whoever had the files and didn’t recognize the address as a trap was someone who was not meant to have the files in the first place. They’ve tried to get rid of the threat without getting their hands dirty.” 

When he looks back up at the laptop screen again, Natasha’s eyebrows are furrowed and she’s chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. Tony also notices the dark circles under her eyes, but he chooses not to comment on it. “It means that whoever you’re up against is skilled and they’re definitely not new to this. They’ve most likely been doing this for years.” 

“We did manage to get a flashdrive.” Steve, who’s been sitting beside Tony on one of the hotel beds, adds as he lifts it up to the camera for Natasha to see. “We’re not sure if we should run it or not, just in case it has the same effect.” 

“I say we should, I’ve had my fair share of explosions in my workshop. Besides, without it, we don’t have any other leads,” Tony explains his point of view before turning back to Natasha, “by the way, what are your buddies at SHIELD doing? Are they still managing our fake vacation in Florida?” 

“You haven’t seen the photos?” Natasha snorts and taps on her phone before smiling and saying, “Steve, check your phone. You’ll love them.” 

_If she’s smiling, then I’m probably not going to like them._ Curiosity gets the best of him and Tony leans forward to look at Steve’s phone screen, too, and he regrets it instantly. The photo depicts a full-suited Captain America and Iron Man lounging on some chairs on the beach, drinks in their hands, looking like they’re having the time of their lives. 

“Does anyone actually believe this shit?” Tony scoffs. 

Steve squints at his phone screen, “Sorry, where are you, Stark? I just see myself here. Wait…are you that tiny little speck there?” 

Tony shoots him a glare. “That’s right, keep digging your own grave, Rogers.” 

“Hey, can you blame me? You always told me that modern technology is out of my league. Oh, how can I ever figure out the zoom function of a phone? I can’t even figure out how to call people on it!” 

“You sign your texts with ‘sincerely, Steve Rogers’! Who does that? You don’t need to do that, Steve, it’s a text message, not a letter to the Queen of England for God’s sake! Clint texts me in just emojis and somehow _that_ is easier to decipher than your ye-old English.” 

Steve laughs. “Big man in a suit of armor, can you even reach my phone if I held it up above my head?” 

Tony lunges forward in an attempt to grab it from Steve only to almost fall straight off the bed as Steve moves out of the way. He pulls himself up and grabs Steve’s shoulder, though he topples over in the process and hooks his arm around the back of his neck to bring Steve down with him. Tony doesn’t even realize how strange they might appear until he looks up and their faces are only mere inches away from each other. 

Their awkward silence is broken by Natasha clearing her throat. “Boys? Are we still going to talk about the mission or do you have other things in mind?” 

Steve is the first to flush red with embarrassment as he rigidly sits up, brushing a hand through his hair, which is still messy from the collapse of the building. “Sorry, Nat.” 

“He started it.” Tony stubbornly huffs as he also sits up, the bed making creaking noises as he does so. He tries to forget about that moment as quickly as it happened and that’s easy to do since the subject matter changes back to something more serious. 

“Anyways, Fury wants you to lay low for a week. He suspects that they’ll be at another Gala or event in a week, and he thinks that they’ll be much bolder if they assume that you’re dead. That means that you have to stay away from continuing the mission until further notice from Director Fury.” Natasha can barely finish her sentence before Tony is ready to make a complaint. 

Tony immediately starts voicing his protests and Steve does, too, both of them for different reasons. Together, their voices form into a mix of “we can’t do that!”, “innocent people are getting hurt”, and “if I wanted to take a vacation while this group of people is off doing evil experiments, I’d be in Florida right now swimming with alligators.” Natasha puts her hand up and both of them fall silent at the gesture but Tony remains seething. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger, alright? We’re all on the same team,” she tries to assure them yet to no avail, “and waiting this out _will_ give you an advantage.” 

“Nat…” Steve’s voice trails off. 

“I know, Steve. Just trust me on this. It’ll work out.” With that said, she gives both of them a brief nod before the call ends and the hotel room is filled with silence, save for the sound of cars honking a few floors down and the hushed murmuring of people in the hallway. Tony relishes in the silence simply because it gives him a few moments to think through what had been said to him. He knows that Fury and Natasha are most likely right, since they’ve been doing this for much longer than they have, but Tony doesn’t share the same confidence. 

“Well, you heard her. We have a week to lay low and get our shit together,” Tony says to Steve but he silently adds to himself, _Rules are made to be broken, Fury. How long do you expect us to wait to do something about this?_

**April 24th – 11:34 P.M.**

“Are you going to sleep anytime soon?” 

Tony tilts his head up at the voice above him and he makes eye contact with Steve, whose blue eyes seem to be much bluer now that they turned the hotel lights to full brightness. Even though Tony can’t see anything but Steve’s face and the ceiling, he’s one hundred percent certain that the man is crossing his arms. “Let me think about that,” he pauses for a minute before shrugging his shoulders uselessly and looking back down at the metal he’s tinkering with, “no.” 

“If you stay up again, that’ll be two nights with no sleep, and no unholy amount of caffeine will help you.” Steve points out, and Tony is only vaguely surprised that he stuck around to argue. 

“I’ll take my chances, Winghead. Now get out of the way of my light, I’m busy.” 

“Busy getting some sleep.” 

“No, did you even listen to a word I’ve said? I’m busy – ah! Fuck! What the fuck?” Tony’s annoyed voice cuts off as soon as he is hoisted into the air. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s going on, especially since he notices Steve’s arms hooked around his waist. “Steve Grant Rogers, you better put me down right now, just because you’re a supersoldier with big strong arms doesn’t mean that you have sudden permission to carry people around as if they weight nothing more than a couple of grapes.” 

“Really? I thought that was one of the perks of being a supersoldier.” Steve teases back and before Tony knows it, he’s dumped on top of the sheets of his bed in an ungraceful heap. As Tony indignantly sits up, preparing to launch himself off the bed and do whatever it takes to get back to his earlier position, Steve manages to catch his attention once again. “What were you working on over there?” 

Tony blinks. He pauses before answering, “A watch.” 

“Don’t you already have one?” 

“No, not for me. For you. I figured that since we’re both undercover, you need some technological benefits, too, since it’ll help us keep in touch just in case,” Tony explains, wondering why he feels compelled to explain it when it really is a simple concept, “and don’t worry, I’m in the middle of installing a tutorial for using Google.” 

“That sounds great!” Steve grins like a kid preparing to open a present and then quickly adds, “not the Google part. I know how to use it.” 

“’Twas a joke, Mr. America.” Tony deadpans but can’t help but feel surprised and satisfied with the fact that Steve is _excited_ about what Tony is making him, even if it is purely for the mission. 

However, as Tony stands up to show him what he has done so far, the mission is the last thing on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	4. Mission Codename: Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two restless superheroes stuck in a hotel room, five feet apart 'cause they're not gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, long time no see! this chapter is a little slow but things pick up in the next one! also, tony is very much pining but he's too oblivious to notice it himself.  
> i'm gonna be honest, i had the draft done for a while already, i was just slacking with proofreading. proofreading takes a lot out of me

**April 25th – 12:03 P.M.**

The first day of the week-long waiting period makes Tony feel trapped and restless. 

The rain relentlessly pours down on the hotel, giving the otherwise quiet room a soft pitter-patter sound against the window. The sky is a dark gray, almost a deep blue, and in the distance Tony can see the ocean’s waves wildly thrashing about. Barely anyone is outside and if they are, they are rushing against the wind, desperately clutching their hoodies to their heads. 

“Steeeeeeve.” Tony whines as he collapses on top of his bed, his stomach and one side of his face squished against the covers. He quickly changes position to lie on his back when his Arc Reactor starts to feel like it’s squeezing the air out of his lungs. When Tony gets no response, he says it even louder and in a much more vexing tone of voice. 

Steve seems to be doing his absolute best to ignore Tony. He sits on his bed, paying no attention to the storm outside, focusing instead on his drawing pad. Whatever Steve is drawing there is a mystery to Tony, but he does notice the colored pencils sitting by his side. _How many different shades of blue does one man need?_

Finally, by the third petulant whine, Steve huffs and drops his pencil. “Can you make it any more obvious that you’re bored?” 

“Why, yes, I can. Thank you for asking. I’m also digging the sass you have going on there. If there’s anything that you learn from me through this entire mission, it better be sarcasm.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I already know what sarcasm is. Anyway, you’re not supposed to be bored on a dangerous mission from Fury.” 

“Show me the danger and then we’ll talk. Come on, you can’t tell me that you’re not bored. I mean, sure, you might be in your Picasso mode right now, but I bet my entire tower _and_ all of my suits that you’re just as bored as I am.” Tony snorts. 

“Oh, really? You think you know everything about me? Alright, since you’re so bored, how about we play a game?” Steve challenges and he catches Tony’s interest. Or at least that is what Tony believes catches his interest, and not the sudden change in tone or mischievous glint in his blue eyes. Yes. It is _definitely_ the challenge itself. “We both say things about ourselves and the person who admits to knowing the least loses.” 

“I’m never one to back down from a challenge, and it _is_ a relief that you think I’m so honest.” Tony casually says as he raises his arms up above his head in a stretch, his back arching at a small angle, before settling back down and folding his arms across his chest. He realizes Steve is staring at him and he prompts, “You go first.” 

Steve’s face reddens for some reason and he turns around as he quickly spits out, “Alright. Uh…my middle name is Grant.” 

“I already know that.” Tony dismisses with a wave of his hand. Seriously, who did Steve think he was? Tony grew up _adoring_ the man. “My middle name is Edward.” 

“Anthony Edward Stark.” Steve echoes, as if getting a taste for the name. 

“Don’t wear it out, Steven Grant Rogers.” 

This back-and-forth game goes on for a few minutes, from favorite colors to which of the Avengers they had a tendency to favor over the others. Tony doubts that they both answered honestly for the latter, or at least Tony didn’t. Both of them tread carefully and refuse to share anything beyond small, little harmless details about themselves. _But hey, who knew that Cap’s favorite brand of cereal is Lucky Charms? Never would have guessed,_ Tony thinks. 

A loud clap of thunder interrupts them both and Tony turns his attention towards the window just in time to see the rain intensify, pelting the glass of the window like miniature bullets. It is unspoken but Tony takes that as his sign of game over and both of them fall silent once again, the only noises coming from the rain and the muffled voices of people in the hallway. Naturally, Tony’s mind drifts back to the main reason why he is stuck in a hotel room with Steve in the first place. 

_Human batteries. Kidnapping. A potential new victim in the area. A villainous group who knows exactly what they’re doing and how to do it._

Tony’s knuckles briefly rub against the area under his Arc Reactor. His mind is elsewhere now, paying no attention to the storm raging outside. “Hey, Steve? Who do you think their next victim is going to be?” 

“If they’re as meticulous and careful as Nat said they are, then probably someone they’ve been watching for a while,” Steve answers but he sounds distracted, and Tony hears the eraser annoyingly squeaking against the paper as he attempts to gently get rid of a mistake. “Someone close to their base, maybe, so they wouldn’t have to use too many resources for transportation-” 

The paper makes a tearing noise and Steve groans. Tony turns to see him with half the sheet of paper in his hand while the other half desperately hangs onto the drawing pad as if it were the edge of a cliff. Tony spots a smudge of bright blue on the paper and tilts his head, trying to get a better look at it only for Steve to clutch the torn papers to his chest, his blue eyes narrowing accusingly. 

“What?” 

“It’s rude to look at an artist’s unfinished work. No one asked you to look.” Steve says defensively, and now Tony _really_ starts to wonder what he was drawing over there. 

Despite his curiosity, Tony simply makes an unimpressed noise, rolling his eyes as he turns his attention back to the window. “Whatever you say, Leonardo Da Vinci.” 

Behind him, he hears Steve gather his papers, stuffing them back into his drawing pad before he closes it. The art session is over and apparently, so is the conversation between them. 

**April 25th – 4:16 P.M.**

“Other than seagulls, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. This is so unfair. I expected to find a bad guy secret base. I was hoping that these unstable boards on the boardwalk would reveal a secret door or something.” 

“We aren’t even supposed to be looking for trouble. Remember what Fury told us?” Steve points out, and Tony frowns as he testily stomps down on one of the wooden boards. It loudly creaks under the amount of force but doesn’t budge. No secret door here. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re grounded. Do you really think that’ll stop either of us, Mr. Cheats-His-Way-In-To-The-Army?” Tony hears Steve snort and the two of them continue leisurely walking. 

Above them, seagulls caw annoyingly, sometimes dropping down to the boardwalk like missiles whenever a crumb of food is in sight. The waves crashing against the sand make a loud sound compared to the voices of other people around them, but the more time passes the more the waves become background noise, only audible if one remembers to pay attention to them. Despite the fact that the rain has stopped, the sky remains overcast, the sun hidden behind steel blue clouds. 

When the rain finally stopped, Tony mentioned going outside for some air and with some coaxing, Steve agreed. They threw on some outfits – Tony, insisting upon looking his best regardless of the circumstances, made sure that he at least had an expensive light gray suit jacket on, one that complemented his black jeans. He also insisted upon wearing sunglasses despite there being no visible sunlight outside. Steve, naturally, went for something more casual, such as a navy-blue jacket and pale blue jeans. 

“How long are we going to be out here?” Tony hears Steve ask and he turns his head to the side just in time to catch Steve checking the time on his watch – the watch that Tony made for him last night. Tony can’t help but smile. “I think it’s going to start raining again soon.” 

“Tired already?” he teases, elbowing Steve in the ribs. “You’re supposed to be a super soldier! Or is your old age finally getting to you? Do you want me to design a walker for you, Sir Rogers? We’ll stay out here as long as we damn need to. The only lead we have is a flashdrive from an exploding building and we don’t even know what’s on it because it could explode, too. I still think we should run it regardless, by the way. The curiosity is killing me.” 

“Nat said we should lay low until the next event, where they’re more than likely to be. I trust her, she’s done this hundreds of times before.” 

Tony huffs and trails after Steve; even though Steve sounds confident, Tony can hear small hints of doubt in his voice. Tony knows that Steve is just as restless as he is to save lives and kick butt. He knows that he wants to know what is on the drive more than any of them, perhaps even more than Tony himself. However, it’s his strong sense of duty that stops him. The desire to do something right no matter what it takes. In a way, the two of them are two different sides of the same coin. 

They come across a small ice cream parlor and Tony grabs Steve’s arm, pointing at the parlor as if he were a little kid asking his parent for a treat. “Look. I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Hotel food can only sustain me for a few hours. I might just keel over if we don’t get some ice cream right this second. Don’t test me on that.” 

Steve looks unimpressed. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat something healthy since we got here.” 

“Are you telling me that you _don’t_ want to try your own ice cream flavor? And what are you, a nutritionist? Am I going to be seeing you making salad commercials now?” 

It took a bit more coaxing but eventually Steve agreed to try his classic ice cream flavor – Super Soldier Swirl. When they both walk into the parlor, Tony realizes that he is still holding onto Steve’s arm and he quickly lets it go, his face heating up despite the cold air that hit his face. Thank God Steve didn’t seem to notice. 

When they walked out after paying the teenager behind the register – who thankfully didn’t seem to recognize either of them – Steve had the most sprinkles on his ice cream cone, which made Tony devilishly grin. “Well, well, well. Mr. I-didn’t-want-ice-cream has a cone that looks like it belongs to a five-year-old.” 

“It’s not my fault that they had so many options for toppings. It turns out that I have as much of a sweet tooth as you.” Steve looks at him and grins widely, some ice cream smeared on top of his lips. Tony’s heart seems to skip a beat. Steve notices his lack of response and he looks at him questioningly. “Tony?” 

“You have something on your mouth.” _Why did that sound so awkward? Jesus. I’m never going to speak again._

“Oh.” Steve wipes his mouth with the napkin the cashier gave him and that was the end of that situation. Still, despite that, Tony couldn’t stop thinking about it. He blamed it on the hazelnuts in his ice cream – lovingly named Stark Raving Hazelnuts. He had never really like hazelnuts. Yeah, that was _definitely_ the case. 

They spend a few more minutes outside, walking and talking aimlessly, mostly about the mission but sometimes about other topics, before ending up getting caught in the rain. They debate whether they should make a run for it or huddle underneath a nearby frozen yogurt shop umbrella like a pair of freezing penguins. Naturally, Tony wins the argument, and together they jog back to the hotel. 

Steve makes sure to toss his soaked jacket right in Tony’s face as soon as they get back to their room. 

**April 26th – 2:45 A.M.**

_Tony Stark is all alone._

_He doesn’t know where he is. He feels like his mind is clouded and the darkness surrounding him is palpable. Thick and suffocating. When he looks up, all he can see is darkness, extending out ahead of him for miles. It doesn’t seem to end._

_When he looks to his right, then to his left, he is greeted with the same sight. Endless, inevitable darkness. Everything around him is quiet, too quiet. He can hear his own breathing, very shallow and quick, seeming to echo all around him._

_Trapped! He’s boxed in! His breathing seizes and he desperately stumbles forward, his arms outstretched, expecting to hit a wall but there’s nothing! Nothing! Just empty space. His hands extend into the darkness, a darkness that seems to go on forever, a darkness that has no beginning and no end. A darkness that no one else can enter or exit._

_Somewhere far away, he hears water trickling, a faint sound. However, it brings back an animalistic fear and impulse that Tony is too familiar with and has been since Afghanistan. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out, as if his voice were stolen from him. Trapped, boxed in, seconds away from drowning._

_Oh, but of course. There is one direction he didn’t look –_

He jolts awake. At first, Tony is disoriented and unsure of what woke him up. Maybe his mind took mercy on him and decided to shove him out of his dreams before he was subjected to a panic attack. It takes him a few seconds to find his bearings since his eyes need to adjust to the darkness around him, differentiating between the darkness of his dream and the darkness of reality. He stares up at the ceiling, not daring to move just in case. When he musters up the courage, he turns his head to the side and sees pale moonlight streaming through the curtains blocking the window from view, faintly illuminating the man sleeping a few feet away from the window. 

Tony looks away and reaches outward, his hand touching the cold nightstand beside his bed. It feels nice to touch something solid. The only sound of water came from the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the sand. They never stopped no matter what time it was. 

_Relax, Tony. We can’t afford panic attacks here. I have to reschedule them for after we get this shit done._ He mentally consolidates himself, though it was more of a scolding. The last thing they needed was his anxiety disorder acting up every night. Anyway, what kind of grown man still has nightmares? His father would be immensely disappointed if he knew – perhaps disappointed enough to pretend like Tony doesn’t exist. Yeah, as if that hasn’t happened before. 

A sudden pained noise stops Tony’s brooding right in its tracks. 

“Steve?” Tony whispers, looking over at him, noticing one of the man’s legs kick out from under the blanket, as if he were kicking an invisible enemy off of him. “You alright there? You’re not sounding so hot.” 

Naturally, he gets no response. For a minute, things quiet down again and Tony waits, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way his eyelids begin to slide down again, sleep threatening to wash over him. Fear is exhausting. However, as soon as he closes his eyes, he hears Steve gasp loudly. He opens them back up just in time to see Steve shoot upwards, and by that time sleep is the last thing on his mind. 

“Whoa, hey!” Tony exclaims as he clumsily stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over the blanket tangled around his legs in the process. At first, Steve doesn’t seem to notice him and through the light of Tony’s Arc Reactor, he can see that the other man’s eyes are focused on his hands, his mouth slightly parted as his breathes come out in short, panicked gasps. 

He recognized the signs of a nightmare before, but this sold the deal. Experience comes in handy, thankfully. 

Sitting down on the side of Steve’s bed, Tony places a tentative hand on his shoulder as he soothes, “Hey, you’re alright. Wherever you think you are, you’re not there. You’re with me, remember?” Steve slowly turns to look at him and Tony nearly flinches at the wild look in his blue eyes but instead he tightens his grip on Steve’s shoulder. “You’re alright, Steve, I promise.” 

Finally, Tony’s words seem to reach Steve. The taller man’s expression suddenly changes, from close guarded terror to a mixture of relief and confusion. “Tony.” 

Tony smiles wryly. “Hey. Are you alright?” 

“I’m so sorry,” he ignores Tony’s question and begins to apologize and even though Tony can’t see his face in anything other than the light of the Reactor and the faint moonlight streaming through the window, he can tell that it’s reddening. “I don’t usually have them on missions, and they’re not noticeable if I do. I’m sorry if I woke you up –”

“Uh-uh, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he interrupts Steve from apologizing to his grave, and pauses for a moment before impossibly softening his tone of voice even more, “I’m the last person to judge you for having nightmares, okay? You don’t have to give me a novel of an apology. I’m not going to read it.” 

Steve is silent for a few moments and Tony begins to worry that he has offended him somehow, or that he isn’t as alright as Tony thinks he is. “Do you have them, too?” 

The personal question catches Tony completely off-guard. _Funny you should ask,_ he bitterly thinks, _wait until I tell you that you’re not the real reason I woke up._

He opens his mouth to respond, his first instinct being to lie, but then he stops himself and hesitates. His eyes wander from the blanket, taking note of the rumpled sheets, before he looks back up at Steve again, who is looking at him with such a searching expression that it makes Tony feel like he’s looking right through him. However, there is no malice behind it and Tony feels like he’s being softly encouraged instead. He finds that he can’t hold Steve’s gaze any longer for some odd reason and therefore he looks back down, removing his hand from Steve’s shoulder. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sometimes. I think that comes with the job description of being an Avenger,” he softly admits, “everyone on the team has nightmares. I know they do. You can’t do the shit we do without seeing it again in your dreams.” 

“ _Language._ ” 

Tony barks out a laugh. “If you ask me, it is fully appropriate in this situation to use the bad words I taught you.” 

They both share a smile and continue chatting aimlessly, easily jumping from one topic to the next. Tony is surprised how quickly his words flow out of his mouth when he talks to Steve – he doesn’t have to worry about what he says or pick his sentences apart carefully, and the playful banter sprinkled in makes Tony wonder how he managed to only do it with A.I. for most of his life. He hasn’t even realized that he had moved closer to Steve so now the two of them are sitting next to each other, Steve with his knees brought up to his chest, arms resting on them while Tony has his legs outstretched across the bed, his arms folded up against his chest, barely covering the Arc Reactor. 

“-Next time he calls, we’re sending Nick Fury straight to voicemail, I don’t care what anyone says.” Tony says in as commanding of a voice as he can muster as he wags his finger. “We’re putting this mission in our own hands now, where it belongs.” 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. would break down the hotel door as soon as you do,” he points out before adding, “and Fury would personally make sure that you never do it again.” 

Tony fakes a horrified gasp and dramatically places a hand on his Reactor. “Mr. Rogers? Are you assuming that I haven’t done it hundreds of times before and still living to tell the tale?” He’s satisfied to have gotten another laugh out of Steve, even if it does sound weary, and leans his head back against the headboard. “We successfully wasted one day of our week punishment. T-minus six days.” 

“I wouldn’t say we _wasted_ it…” Steve begins to say but stops when Tony throws him an unimpressed glance. “Okay, maybe we didn’t do as much as we thought we would, but tomorrow will be better.” 

Tony simply shrugs. “Tomorrow is what we make of it. And you know what we’re going to make of it? Testing the exploding flash drive, that’s what.” _Damn,_ he winces, _that sounded way cooler in my head._

“Tony?” Steve yawns. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you.” 

Tony blinks in surprise, replaying the words back in his head. _Did that really just happen?_ By the time he chokes out an awkward “no problem” Steve happens to be already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think!! comments are always appreciated. kudos, too!  
> hopefully my updating schedule is going to even out soon.


	5. Trust Issues 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People normally fall in love by falling head over heels. Tony Stark falls in love by falling straight off a cliff and tumbling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is LONG holy shit. a lot of things go down. i feel like this is turning into a buddy cop story but listen, i'm having a lot of fun writing this. the next chapter is also gonna be pretty important.

**April 26th – 6:04 A.M.**

Tony didn’t remember falling asleep but when he wakes up, he feels strangely well-rested. That is already enough cause for suspicion because he can count the days he woke up well-rested in the year so far on his fingers but he neglects to pay any attention to it, instead opting for nuzzling his cheek into his pillow and squeezing his eyes shut tighter. Maybe his body is finally paying him reparations for those insomnia-filled nights. 

Ugh. Were the hotel pillows here always hard as rocks? Tony sleepily reminds himself to complain about that as he shifts his head, his eyelids slowly opening as a beam of pale sunlight runs across his face. 

“Friday, can you close the blinds? It’s too bright in here.” Tony murmurs automatically, turning on his side and splaying his hand out across from him, his fingertips brushing against … skin? Alarm bells ring in his head and he opens his eyes, only to find his face a mere few inches away from Steve’s sleeping face. 

_What._

_The._

_Fuck?!_

Tony scrambles up from the bed like a startled wild animal, nearly falling in the process. He looks at Steve, looks at the indentations on the covers where he once slept right beside him, practically on top of him, and promptly covers his face with his hands, feeling it heat up underneath his palms. He wishes he can somehow forget the last few minutes. He has never felt so embarrassed in his entire life. If he can somehow dig a hole in the hotel room, lay down in it, and proceed to die in it, he would with no hesitation. 

_I was not sleeping on top of Steve Rogers. Nope. Didn’t happen,_ he mentally consoles himself to avoid spiraling, lifting his face up from his hands to dare look at Steve again. 

His sudden movements didn’t seem to bother Steve one bit – the man continues peacefully sleeping, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. Tony watches for a few seconds, wondering if he has ever seen Steve look so untroubled and peaceful, especially after last night when he had such a wild and terrified look in his eyes. Then he turns away, softly cursing his sudden staring problem. Seriously, what is wrong with him lately? 

Trying to shove that moment in the back of his mind and keep it there, Tony takes advantage of Steve being knocked out like a light in order to change clothes. He sheds his tank top, replacing it with a black long-sleeved shirt that is dark enough to cover the glow of his Arc Reactor. He doesn’t usually hide it whenever he goes outside but it’s his most identifying mark. In other words, he has no choice. He then puts on dark blue jeans, sunglasses despite the sun having just risen, and expensive sneakers. 

Tony needs to take a walk. They’re still temporarily fired and he just needs the air, especially after his nightmare last night – not to mention that it will take his mind off of this morning. He snaps the watch on his wrist and makes his way to the door only to stop in his tracks as soon as his hand is resting on the handle, craning his neck to look back at Steve without having to turn his body away from the door. 

Then something weird happens. 

He considers draping the blanket over Steve since the blanket is halfway on the floor and the other half is loosely on his body. His mind stays on that thought for a few seconds, as if it were reluctant to leave. _Uh…what?_ Tony pushes the thought away as soon as his common sense overrides his emotions. He shakes his head as if the action would put a stop to such thoughts from pestering him and leaves the hotel room, making his way to the elevator and eventually out of the hotel itself. 

He doesn’t bother leaving a note. He doubts that he’ll be outside for long. If anything, he has his watch. 

As soon as he confidently struts outside, the dawn air hits him, crisp and a bit chilly. The waves lazily roll in the distance, seagulls continue to caw overhead, and no one else seems to be on the boardwalk. Tony can see a handful of people on the beach beside the water if he squints – they were most likely there to watch the sunrise and then decided to stick around before the crowd comes in. The smell of saltwater hangs heavy in the air but Tony can also smell something sweet and quickly realizes that hotel kitchens must be making breakfast. 

Tony absentmindedly walks down the boardwalk, the hotel he and Steve stay at shrinking more and more the further he walks. He doesn’t plan on straying too far, just enough so his restlessness can stop making his life hell. The problem with being on break is that Tony is used to _always_ doing something and now that he’s left with nothing, all of the energy inside of him threatens to break loose. He’s been tinkering on his off hours but nothing has been finished yet. 

Voices catch his interest and he looks up from his watch, where he had been toying with it to keep his hands busy, peering through his sunglasses at the only other people on the boardwalk ahead of him. Tony spots a rather short male and a taller female, both of their identities unknown to him, hanging around a kid who doesn’t look more than thirteen-years-old. At first, he thinks nothing of it. After all, they look very much like a regular family out for a walk. 

He busies himself with his watch again but this time the voices get louder. 

“Leave me alone already! Don’t you guys have anything better to do? I don’t have any money.” Tony can tell that the kid is the one yelling and he looks up again, this time curiously watching them. 

“We don’t need your money. Geez, how many times do we have to say it for you to get that thought into your thick skull? We’re just here to _help_ you.” The man with the glasses says, his emphasis on “help” sending off alarms in Tony’s head. Tony straightens up and slowly edges forward, making sure to look like a casual bystander as he catches more of their conversation. 

The woman speaks this time, her voice low, as if she is trying to deliberately keep quiet. Another alarm goes off in his head. “We need to get the kid out of here fast before people start waking up. Boss needs this one fast. He says we’ve got spies on our tails.” 

Tony flinches. These are the guys S.H.I.E.L.D. is after and to make matters worse, they know that they’re suddenly being investigated. That means that whatever they’re doing, they’re hauling ass to finish it. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what they tried to avoid. 

“I’m trying! How about you do something for once? I’m always the one doing the dirty work.” The smaller male hisses back before reaching out and roughly grabbing the kid’s arm. “You don’t have a choice, buddy. You’re coming with us. Consider it a promotion.” 

“Uh, excuse me.” Tony suddenly interrupts, jogging up to them. Three pairs of eyes stare expectantly at him. _I didn’t think things through this far,_ he realizes at the same time he remembers that he didn’t disguise his voice. Thinking fast, Tony pretends to go into a coughing fit, making his voice hoarse on purpose in an attempt to disguise his usual quick snarky tone. “Do you know where the nearest CVS is? I got a nasty cough.” 

As soon as the nerd looks away and starts murmuring directions, Tony clocks him square in the jaw, causing him to yell and let go of the kid as his hands drift up to his face to nurse his new injury. The woman shrieks in shock and Tony pushes the kid out of her way, gesturing wildly to the city behind the hotels. “Run, get out of here!” 

Apparently the kid didn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet and bolts out of there, the woman noticing and nipping at his heels – Tony doesn’t worry about her. He can tell that the kid is quicker than she is. Tony’s thoughts are interrupted by a harsh blow to his upper back and he turns around just in time to see the nerd sizing him up, his fists raised to his chest. _Aw, great._ “How do you like morning jogs?” Tony asks and before he gives his enemy time to answer, he pushes past him, running in the opposite direction the kid came from. 

He darts through a small, hidden street that leads to the city, planning to make use of the various alleyways and corners to make his escape. After all, a rabbit that runs in a straight line is bound to be caught. Unpredictability is key. Unfortunately, as a result of his Arc Reactor, he can’t run as fast due to the lack of space his lungs have and his stamina is lacking. A few minutes into the chase and Tony’s breathing is beginning to suffer; he can hear the footsteps behind him getting closer and closer. 

In a desperate attempt to throw his pursuer off, Tony sharply turns the corner into an alley nestled between two large buildings, praying that there’s no wall to stop him. 

The wall is a heartbreaker. By the time Tony skids to a halt and aims to run out the way he came, the nerd blocks his path, panting, sweat glistening on his forehead. Tony backs away, his chest aching, his eyes searching for anything that could help him. On his left there’s a dumpster a few feet away from him and on his right there’s a discarded sign leaning against the wall. In other words, he’s fucked. 

He inconspicuously pushes his thumb down on a button on his watch, swiping through screens using pure muscle memory. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for and pushes down for the final time, successfully disguising his voice. He already had his contacts in his eyes so he prays that it’s enough for them to dash away any suspicions about the man in front of them being Tony Stark. 

“You’re messing with things you don’t understand,” the smaller nerdy one warns as he catches his breath, “it’s better if you let us do what we need. Otherwise you’ll find yourself in the hospital.” 

Now that he’s closer, Tony can get a better look at him. He has light brown hair, pale blue eyes, and thick-rimmed glasses that make him look like the pretentious sons of rich men that Tony has met as a kid. It is also just now that Tony realizes he’s wearing a suit but from what he can tell, there are no identifying marks to it. It’s just a regular suit. 

“You and what army?” Tony retorts only to flinch in surprise as his voice comes out not slow and deep as he intended it to be but high-pitched, as if he’s been gulping down helium all night. _Great. Any idiot can realize that this is a voice-disguising mechanism. Give me a break._

The nerd looks equally surprised. “Uh…what the hell is wrong with your voice, man?” Then, as if thinking better of it, he shakes his head. “Never mind. We have our reasons. We can make you keep your mouth shut permanently. Unless you want that to happen, run along and don’t tell anyone about this. We’ll know if you do. We’re everywhere around here. Shops, hotels, restaurants – _everywhere._ ” 

_He’s either new to this or a complete nitwit. Anyone else experienced in the crime business would have seen my voice as a red flag. I lucked out. Why did I even program this voice? Anyway, apparently they infiltrated this place more than I thought they did. Steve is going to lose his marbles once I tell him._

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees a tall woman running up to them and he recognizes her as the other person attempting to kidnap the kid. She stops beside the nerd, peering at Tony through her sunglasses. Her hazel eyes stare directly at his. “The damn kid got away…huh. You look familiar.” 

“You know who I am? I haven’t seen you before in my entire life.” _Damn it. That was such a Tony Stark thing to say. Maybe I should add that to my autobiography. Tony Stark things to say. What was my fake name again?_

Then she suddenly snaps her fingers, her eyebrows shooting up to her forehead. “That’s because you didn’t see us but we saw you. You’re the one who stole the flashdrive from that building. Bet you didn’t know we have video footage of you and your buddy.” 

Tony freezes. If they have any audio recording of them speaking to each other, they’re toast. Testing the waters, he shoots back, “What good is video footage if you don’t even know our names? There’s at least a thousand guys out there that look like us. Don’t you think that’s why I went into this business?” 

The tall woman shrugs her shoulders. “True. Boss wants us to get rid of you quick, though. Good to know that you’re still in the area.” 

The good thing is that she doesn’t know their names nor recognizes them as their true identities. Contrary to her belief, that puts Tony and Steve on the upper hand. Now all Tony has to worry about is somehow getting out of here when he’s clearly out-numbered. 

“Not that what you stole was valuable,” the nerd chirps, “I don’t think you would have understood it. The Avengers might but they’re not going to bother with us. We’re too underground.” 

Tony blinks. “What are you talking about?” 

“You didn’t look at what’s on the drive?” One of them – the smaller nerdy looking one – asks. He looks quite troubled by the news and Tony smirks in satisfaction, realizing that he has unintentionally thrown them off again. Still, something about his comment makes his skin prickle with unease. 

“Now you’ve done it,” the other one groans, swatting the back of the nerd’s head. Her eyes return to Tony and he knows by the look on her face that she has inconspicuously pulled out a gun. He wishes he had his armor surrounding him but Steve would kill him before the gun has the chance. “You’re officially coming with us thanks to Mr. Running-His-Mouth here. We have no idea where your partner is but I’m sure our boss will appreciate your help finding him.” 

“Sounds like a fun time. I have no idea how much use I would be to you if I’m full of bullet holes. You’re not taking me alive,” he warns, pretending to be adjusting his watch but in reality he made sure that it started recording what he was witnessing – whether it be sights or sounds. He had sent the SOS signal to Steve a few minutes ago while searching for his disguised voice but so far it didn’t look like he had received it. 

“A bullet to the leg won’t kill you.” 

_I’ve had enough of this._ “Yeah, it won’t. I have a history of being hard to kill.” 

He lunges forward, keeping his eyes on the woman’s face to throw her off but his hands outstretch towards the gun. He successfully knocks the gun out of the woman’s hands but she returns the favor with a sharp kick to his calf, which causes him to stumble. 

He feels a hand on him and blindly throws a punch, his fist connecting with the nerd’s glasses. He hears a satisfying snap as they break, and he already knows by the white tendrils of pain shooting up his hand that he punched the wrong way but it still did the damage he was hoping for. 

Adrenaline pulses through his veins as he ducks under what would have been a punch to his face but the nerd hits him in the chest, his fist landing a few inches away from his hidden Arc Reactor. Naturally, his scars and lungs don’t appreciate that and it causes him to fall, a quick kick to his ribs making him yelp. Pain becomes the dominant feeling in his body as his back suffers more damage from kicks that soon become blurs. His mind is racing, thinking of a million things a minute. 

He’s not entirely helpless without his suit of armor but when he’s outnumbered in a fist-fight, well, he’s no Steve Rogers. 

His eyes catch the glint of the gun shining in the sunlight a few feet away from him and he desperately reaches towards it, only for the woman to step right on his outstretched hand, forcing him to yell out a curse. “For a spy, you’re pretty weak. Did they put you through any training wherever you work?” 

“Didn’t they teach you to pay attention to your target?” As he spoke, Tony’s other hand manages to grasp the hilt of the gun and pull it towards him, where he roughly hits it against her leg, forcing her foot off of his hand. He rolls to the side, air whoosing past his ear as he narrowly misses a kick to the face, and stumbles to his feet, pointing the gun straight at the woman. 

The woman looks impressed as she blows a piece of her blonde hair away from her face but soon a smile graces her lips. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

Hands tightly clutching the gun, Tony tosses a glance to his right and sees the smaller man fiddling with something in his hands. 

He has enough time to realize that what the nerd is holding is _not_ a regular gun before he’s hit with a blast that throws him against a nearby discarded wooden sign, which splinters and eventually breaks. Groaning in pain and annoyance, Tony props himself up on his elbows, his ears ringing. His back feels like it’s on fire. Come to think of it, every part of him feels like it’s on fire. 

When he finally finds his bearings and sits up, he’s met with the same gun to his face, the nerd holding it shakily in his hands. It is just then that Tony notices his own sunglasses are cracked. “Stay still. Otherwise I’ll shoot.” His voice sounds distant, as if he were a few feet away from Tony and in a tunnel rather than right in front of him. 

“Alien tech? Or did your nerdy colleagues make this? How is it powered? This is way out of my field of knowledge.” Tony breathlessly asks, taking note of any feature of the weapon. “Something tells me that you don’t know how to use it yet. Or maybe you’re just shaking because of the cold spring breeze? Does your boss know that you’ve stolen it?” 

Apparently Tony just hit and nerve and therefore signed his death warrant. However, before the nerd can blow Tony’s face in, the gun is knocked from his hands with enough force to send him reeling. Tony looks up just in time to see Steve shaking his hand as if the force of the punch hurt him, too. 

_Pull your punches. Please pull your punches,_ he begs. If Steve uses his full strength then he’ll easily be identified and therefore Tony’s cover would be blown, too. As if answering his prayers, Steve pretends to stumble back from a punch to the chest he could have easily dodged, which left him open to a punch square in the jaw – Tony winces at the force but so far it seems that Steve is mainly acting. 

Pulling himself upwards, Tony ignores the protests his back makes against the sudden movements and tries to insert himself into the fight. Vertigo has a strong hold on him and he has to lean against the wall to keep standing, nausea making his throat tighten. He considers using his gauntlet but before he can make the decision, the fight seems to stop as the woman pulls her phone out of her pocket, murmuring something to her partner before returning to look at Steve and Tony. 

“You boys lucked out,” she claims with a smirk, “we have other things to attend to. Consider this your final warning. Tell whoever you work for to find you guys a new hobby. By the way, just so you two don’t go home like kicked puppies, I’ll give you something. The name’s Laverre.” 

She turns and leaves, dragging the nerd with her. Even before she left, Tony can tell that Steve is dying to go after them. 

“Don’t go after them,” he warns, and Steve turns back to look at Tony before he begrudgingly makes his way over to him. He looks at Steve through his cracked sunglasses. “You took your time getting here. What, did you stop for drive-thru?” 

“I wouldn’t have even needed to come here had it not been for you.” 

“Where are your pants?” 

“Where is your common sense?” Steve shoots back. “My pants are in the hotel room where we were supposed to be staying _together._ Fury told us not to separate for this exact reason.” 

Tony ignores him and asks the million-dollar question. “Did you really run over here in your boxers?” 

For the first time in the entire conversation, Steve looks embarrassed and Tony watches as a vibrant blush creeps up his cheeks. “You sent the SOS signal. I thought you were dying somewhere. Do you really think I’d roll out of bed, throw on an entire outfit, and then decide to go save you? I barely had enough time to put some shoes on.” 

He wishes he could laugh at the hilarity of the situation but instead he just stares at Steve’s face. The sheer determination it holds seems to pierce through his soul. His heart skips a beat. 

“I think I did great,” he remarks as the sign behind him finally crumbles into a dusty heap. “You did great, too, by the way. They have no idea who we are.” 

Tony’s admittance of that didn’t seem to make Steve feel any better. He still held a frown that only seemed to deepen, blood trickling in a thin stream from the corner of his lips. Despite the fact that he was injured and not looking his best, Tony still couldn’t help but keep his eyes on him. 

Suddenly, Steve slings an arm around Tony’s shoulders, nudging for Tony’s hand to wrap around his back. “You’re acting like they broke my kneecaps and took my kidneys. All they did was rough me around a bit.” Tony complains but he does as Steve silently directed him to, thankful for having some support to lean against other than a wall. He isn’t sure what device they used but his head feels like it’s still spinning. He hopes that Steve blames his burning cheeks on whatever he was hit with. 

Steve stares at him as if he had grown a second head as they begin awkwardly walking. “You were blasted straight through a sign.” 

He winces at the memory. “And let me tell you, my back is going to be feeling that for the rest of my life.” 

They walk in silence for a few moments before Steve asks. “Why did you choose _that_ as your disguised voice?” 

“It was an accident,” he huffs as he aims to switch the voice disguiser off, “I thought I was choosing something more badass. I think I breezed past the option I wanted. Blame it on the adrenaline.” Then he suddenly smiles and withdraws his hand before he can turn it off. “Hey, Steve.” 

“No.” 

“Steeeeeeeve. I have something important to tell you.” 

“I’ll tell Fury about this incident if you keep talking.”

“Tattletail. What are we, in grade school?” Tony grumbles, hoping that Steve notices the irony in his words. After a few minutes he decides that he’s not scared of Fury and presses, “So, you wanna hear it or not?” 

Steve heaves a sigh but Tony catches the ghost of a smile on his face that only encourages him. “Fine. Tell me. I’m not coming to your funeral once Fury finds out.” 

“You’re a little bitch.” Steve snorts at that and Tony smiles, happy that Steve seems to have forgiven him for breaking the rules. 

On their way back, Tony tugs on Steve’s arm, pulling him closer to the entrance of a nearby gift shop. Since they had a hotel so close to the boardwalk and beach, the area is loaded with gift shops around every corner. A great marketing tactic, honestly. Tony hesitantly separates from Steve, gesturing towards the door. 

“What are we doing here?” 

“What do you think? I don’t know if you’re aware of this but you currently have no pants. Go shopping. Tell me what you like and I’ll buy it.” 

Steve smirks mischievously. “We’re right next to the beach. I don’t think anyone will bat an eye at me. What, are you jealous?” 

He earns a weak punch in the arm from Tony, who turns away to hide his flushed cheeks. “Jealous of what? I’m the one with the genius-level IQ and awesome tech to play with.” 

Before Steve has the chance to answer, they are both interrupted by a high-pitched voice. A girl with a nametag on her shirt appears in front of them, a bright smile on her face. “Hey! Do need any help finding anything? My co-worker Laverre is supposed to be here but she says that something came up. I can fill in for her once I set up!” 

As soon as he hears the name, Tony feels his heart drop all the way to his stomach in realization. He nudges Steve, who seems to have gotten the message, too. They both exchange glances before Tony’s charisma takes over. “No, we’re just looking around, sweetheart. Tourists, y’know? Got any places you wanna recommend to us?” 

She starts prattling on about about common tourist attractions, but Tony isn’t really listening. He looks to his left, and then to his right, suddenly feeling cramped and claustrophobic. The words echo in his head: _We’re everywhere._

They walk away before she finishes, both of them lost in their own thoughts. 

“They really weren’t lying when they said that they were everywhere,” he murmurs as soon as they are out of earshot, “knowing our luck, some of them might be employees in our hotel.” 

“That means that their base is somewhere nearby, right? All we have to do is find out more about them, find it, and infiltrate it.” Steve adds but then stops in his tracks as he notices Tony’s look. He raises his eyebrows. “What?” 

Tony taps his foot against the pavement in irritation before he turns to face Steve. Their eyes meet. Steve’s eyes are really blue, so blue to the point of him feeling like he’s about to drown in them. “That means that we have to be skeptical of anyone we’re speaking to. It means that since we’re teammates, we have to depend on each other. It means that you have no choice but to trust me. Do you trust me?” 

“What makes you think I don’t?” Steve cautiously asks. 

“I have an entire laundry list, Rogers. Do you want me to read off every single reason why somebody like you should not trust me? Do you want to start with today’s incident or should I take it from the top?” 

A silence falls between them and Tony expects the worst. Ever since their first interaction in New York when Loki tried to take over, it seemed like they were prone to arguing every second of their lives. He shifts his weight on top of one leg, biting his bottom lip before he decides to put Steve out of his misery and prevent this moment from getting any more awkward. However, before he can get a single word out, Steve’s words stop him. 

“I trust you.” 

**April 26th – 3:17 P.M.**

For some odd reason, Tony’s body decided to force him to sleep as soon as they got back to the hotel. When he wakes up again, he’s lying on his side on his bed, his leg still hanging off the edge as if he had crashed there and stayed in that position. 

“Haven’t been sleeping well?” Steve asks with a sympathetic look on his face, breaking the silence, settling down on the edge of the bed beside him. Tony sees that he has a cup in his hands, steam rising from it in gentle, thin wisps. The faint yet familiar smell of coffee hits his nose. 

“Tired,” he groans, tossing his arm over his face. His head is beginning to pound and the afternoon sun isn’t working miracles for him. Even when he has his back turned to the windows, the sun somehow seeps into his bones, beating down mercilessly on his back. “Thinking. You know, the usual. When did it get so fucking sunny in here? The temperature in here is hot enough for an Easy-Bake Oven to actually bake something.” 

He hears Steve snort and get up from the bed. Suddenly, the sun disappears, and Tony lets out a small sigh of relief. He lifts his arm from his head and sits up, noticing that Steve has a different outfit on – a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. 

“Here, I brought some coffee for you.” Steve says, handing the steaming cup to Tony, who accepts it with a quizzical thanks. “Aren’t we going to look at what’s on the flashdrive tonight? I was thinking you’d need some energy now that you’re an old man complaining about your back.” 

Tony stares at the dark brown liquid in the cup, arching an eyebrow. It looks exactly like it’s made how he likes it. The cup warms his hands – speaking of which, he notices that his injured hand is bandaged. 

The man beside him seems to take his silence as suspicion since he explains, “I made it myself, don’t worry. I don’t think I trust anyone here not to poison us more than you do. Anyways, I think whatever they hit you with made you drowsy. You passed out five minutes after we got here. I just thought that coffee would help.” 

As Tony takes a sip of the coffee, Steve continues speaking, this time his gaze averted downwards, “I also wanted to check on your back. But you were out like a light as soon as we got here so I figured I wouldn’t do it without your permission.” 

_Oh,_ Tony thinks. People asking for his permission is a foreign topic for him but it is a welcome surprise – not that he’s surprised that it’s Steve who asks. He’s the epitome of the polite blonde boy that every mother loves. He leans over and places the coffee cup on his nightstand before saying, “Alright, let’s get this over with.” 

Tony pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side as Steve gets the first aid supplies. Steve brings out a tiny box, seeming to be distracted with its contents until his eyes fall upon Tony…and stay there. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it up close like this. Jesus, Tony,” he breathes, his voice full of awe and horror. 

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Tony covers his chest with his arms, the bright glow of the Arc Reactor coloring his arms blue. “I know, I know, I _know._ My chest is a warzone. Why don’t you tell me something new, Rogers?” he spits, not meaning to come off so harsh but somehow managing to do so despite that. 

“Tony, wait, I didn’t mean it like that –“ Steve begins to apologize but Tony ruthlessly cuts him off in a terse voice. 

“Just drop it. Please.” 

Steve drops it, thankfully. They’re both silent as Steve bandages any cuts Tony got and judging by the bands of white that wrap around Tony’s torso, there’s a few of them. None of them seem too bad, though, since he was able to sleep without bleeding out. Something tells him that Steve is just being a worrywart, but he lets it slide. 

After a few moments, Tony breaks the silence. “Hey, uh. Thanks for saving my ass back there. Not that I would have normally needed it, I would have just called my suit and blasted them into oblivion, but you know the circumstances. You’re the supersoldier and I’m not.” 

“You’ve got a weird way of thanking people.” Steve says and though he’s behind Tony’s back, he can tell that he’s smiling. “We’re teammates. We’re supposed to help each other.” 

“You say that as if helping people isn’t in your blood. Maybe the teammates clause only applies to me.” Tony scoffs. 

Silence. 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“You don’t think what’s true?” 

“That the teammates clause only applies to you. I think that helping people is in your blood, too.” 

Tony shrugs. “I think you’re forgetting who I am.” 

“I think I know exactly who you are.” 

“There's a lot of confidence in that statement for one man. Anyways, sorry I didn’t follow the rules…and got you hurt.” Tony finally murmurs in hopes of changing the subject and thanking Steve for saving his ass. “You’re alright, aren’t you? I know you were playing up the theatrics but I saw blood.” 

“I’m alright. Tell me about what happened, then. You didn’t go picking a fight with them for no reason.” Steve says and Tony resists the urge to call him by his rightful superhero name, aka Captain Obvious. 

“They were trying to take this kid off the street. I think the kid’s homeless, I didn’t see any parents nearby. Reminded me of the conversation we had. You said that they would choose someone they’ve been watching for a while and I figure they’d choose an easy target, too. Why waste materials on someone difficult to get unless you’re certain that it will work?” 

“At least we know one more thing about them. Whatever they’re doing, it’s still in the testing stages. That’s why they’re choosing people they think no one will notice.” Steve says. “But now we’ve noticed and they know it. This is the opposite of what Fury wants – he even warned us about this. We might make them slip through our fingers.” 

“We’ll talk to Fury about it later tonight or tomorrow.” Tony decides as he stands up, reaching for his shirt and putting it on again. “I have some video and audio footage of me getting my ass handed to me. I’m thinking Fury can run some background checks on our new friends and –” 

Steve gets up after him and promptly cuts him off. “Wait, Tony.” 

Tony glares at him, fully prepared to cut him off in return, until Steve walks in front of him and puts his hand on the Reactor, his hand gentle and hesitant, giving room for Tony to back off if he wanted to. Strangely enough, Tony doesn’t. He simply stands there, looking up at Steve, searching his expression. 

“Listen, about earlier. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, to have scars,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper as he continues, “I knew you went through a lot but actually seeing it reminded me of how strong you actually are. I know you don’t see yourself like that, Tony, but you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I’m not talking about your armor.” Steve’s hand lingers on his Arc Reactor before he quickly retracts it and flees to the bathroom, muttering under his breath something about taking a shower. Tony watches the door close, his own hand drifting up to his Reactor in place of Steve’s hand. 

There was something about Steve in the way he spoke to him. There was no pity in his eyes, his lips moved and refrained from babying him for being stuck with a piece of metal in his chest. In that moment, he saw Tony as _Tony_ and not as Iron Man. He spoke as if he knew that there is a man inside the suit, and it _hurts_ when he falls. 

The loss of proximity between them makes Tony frown. 

_Uh oh. That’s a bad sign._

Not that he wants Steve to sit close to him. No, that isn’t the true reason. It can’t be. He reasons with himself that it must be for security reasons. They only have each other to trust. They have no one else to turn to other than Fury and perhaps Natasha but he doubts that they will show their faces here unless they mess up beyond repair. 

Then again, he isn’t sure if he would be willing to be stuck trusting anyone else. 

When Tony looks to the side, the cup of coffee on his nightstand stares back at him mockingly. His hand remains on his Reactor, in the same place Steve had put his. 

_Oh God,_ Tony thinks, horrified, _I think I’m in love with Steve Rogers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna yell at me about how bad tony and steve are at being spies, consider endgame. trust me, they're the worst people for the job.  
> anyways, let me know what you think! comments keep me going!


	6. Never Trust a Stark.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sleep deprived author plans on updating in a week, forgets that august 2nd is a week from july 26th, proceeds to haul ass to get the chapter done by august 1st. well, here you go! early chapter is up and at 'em.  
> this one was fun! thank you ant-man, for giving me such a fitting chapter title.

**April 26th – 5:25 P.M.**

Tony: _Had I not known any better, I would have suspected that you actually care about us. All this constant checking in, this mother hen attitude, it’s not like you, Nat. Do you…secretly like us?_

Natasha: _I’m glad I’m not talking with you over the phone, Stark. I think I might’ve been able to punch through it and wipe that smirk clean off your face. Consider the way I’m currently communicating with you to be a blessing._

Natasha: _Anyways, Fury doesn’t think he can stomach talking to either of you for the time being for the sake of his physical and mental health. No hard feelings._

Her text makes Tony snort. He knows that she’s just messing around, since Fury is most likely busy with other problems the United States seems to be riddled with, but at the same time he can definitely see Nick Fury saying that. He can imagine all of the gray hairs that are named after them. Just as he is about to lock his phone and resume working on his sunglasses, it buzzes with another text from her. 

Natasha: _He did ask me to show you what S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing to improve your cover. He has some recycled footage of you and Steve that’s been edited. Hopefully that will throw your bad guys off your tracks._

Natasha: _If anything goes horribly wrong, Fury has asked me specifically to bail you boys out. Do not make me do it. I will never let you two live it down._

A cover video, huh? He supposes it is due time for one considering how much interaction they had with their enemy despite supposedly being on break. Leaning over the bed and taking his laptop, Tony clicks on the video sent to him, not particularly dying to see it but still rather curious. 

The video is set like an interview. Both Steve and Tony are in view, sitting down, and the “reporter” is unseen. He can tell it’s for the sake of an easy voiceover. The background is colorful, a light yellow, a sign that they’re trying to use color psychology to ensure that the atmosphere of the video is joyful and positive. 

“How is your vacation so far?” the off-screen reporter asks in a dreadfully monotonous voice. 

“We’re usually having a good time,” past Tony elbows past Steve in the arm, “aren’t we?” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Past Steve agrees with a smile that’s enough to fool the camera as well as other people who may watch it but not enough to fool Tony. He’s seen his real smile enough to know that this one screams “I want this to be over soon.” 

This goes on for a while, the reporter asking specific questions and receiving vague answers in response, until it finally ends around the three-minute mark. 

As the video stops playing, Tony suddenly remembers the original source of the interview. Fury wanted to make sure that they were working well as a team and not constantly at each other’s throats, so he had every member do an interview with each other. Tony was at his best with Bruce, on friendly terms with Natasha, and decently acquainted enough with Clint and Thor to be his annoying self. Steve was someone he couldn’t figure out at the time. Despite their clashing personalities, they miraculously passed the interview. 

Back then, Steve had told him that he wasn’t the person to make the sacrifice play, that he was selfish and only fought for himself. Now he had said that he believes Tony is better than he, himself, thinks he is. What caused the sudden change of heart? Surely it wasn’t just the wormhole incident. 

Casting those thoughts aside, he determines that the video is enough to keep their alibi going for the time being. As long as they don’t mess up anymore, they should be alright. 

“That interview feels like it’s a hundred years old. Anyway, are we going to look at what’s on the flash drive tonight?” Steve asks, looking up from combing over the files they’ve stolen the first day of their mission. 

Tony thinks for a moment but honestly, he’s already thought of this while he had been working on upgrades to his sunglasses. His incident with the homeless boy earlier this morning inspired him to think about something they haven’t considered yet. He shakes his head. “No, change of plans. Ready to resort to a life of crime?” 

“ _What?_ ” Steve practically squeaks, his blue eyes widening. He looks at Tony as if the mechanic suggested murdering someone. “What do you mean? You can’t seriously be going back on what we said, Stark.” 

“I can and I will. What is this, a democracy?” he scoffs and rolls his eyes at Steve’s frown. “I just think we’re missing something here. What’s our background knowledge of these people so far? Zilch. Nada. We have maybe 1% of the entire picture and that’s being generous.” 

“Right. And you don’t think that the flash drive _filled with information_ will help us?” 

Tony sits up, setting the laptop aside. “We don’t know anything about the victims.” 

A brief pause. Steve folds his arms across his chest and thinks it through, before his eyes light up. “You’re right. Fury never mentioned them.” 

“I’m willing to bet my entire net worth that the drive doesn’t mention them. It’d be too risky even with the bomb planted there.” 

Once again, they share a silence, the only sound that breaks it being Tony tapping a pen against his thigh as he thinks. He’s already coming up of various different ways to remedy that situation but before he can voice any of them, Steve’s voice interrupts him. 

“Hey, let’s go out to the balcony. We’ve been stuffed in here for a while.” Steve suggests as he stands up and opens the sliding window, something that Fury told them not to do. Sunlight streams into the room and Tony wants to shy away from it and continue working, but instead he finds himself drawn to it as if it were a magnet. 

“Breaking the rules, are we? Wouldn’t Fury not want us to chill out in the open like this?” Tony softly chides as he follows Steve over to the small balcony, fit just for three or four people. There are two chairs beside each other on one end while a circular table is on the other side. Tony can see various pieces of cigarettes scattered under the table, most likely from the previous tenant. The afternoon sunlight is warm and colors the white balcony in a golden light. Below them and practically everywhere around them, there are various other balconies of the exact same shape and size. The hotel staff seems to know how to take advantage of their seaside view. 

In the distance, Tony can see the ocean, the waves crashing against the sand as civilians of all ages splash in the water. Rainbow umbrellas dot the pale sand. Laughter can be heard from every direction, extending from the beach towards the boardwalk, the latter of the two being closer to the hotel. If he leans against the barrier in front of them, Tony can see various people walking across the boardwalk, their voices mingling into one single sound. He notices that a lot of them are families. 

“Have you ever seen the ocean like this?” 

Tony glances at Steve, who is sitting down on the chair closest to the side of the balcony, his eyes curiously fixed on him. He wears a soft smile and just then, a breeze flickers by them, ruffling his hair. “I have. I used to live in a place where I’d always wake up to the sound of the ocean,” he says in response, drawing away from the balcony and plopping down on the chair beside Steve. 

Footsteps above them signal that the people in the hotel room above them are also on their balcony. Soon enough, music starts playing, most likely from a radio considering the static that it suffers from every now and then. 

“I need to make upgrades to your watch. I have a few fun things in mind.” Tony remarks before adding, “I’d have to teach you everything, of course. I’ll explain everything slowly and carefully so your old ears don’t miss anything. That’s how it is with the elderly, huh, Steve?” 

He feels a gentle yet solid whack on the back of his head from Steve and laughs. “Very funny, Tony. You know what, maybe you’re right. Oh, how will I ever be able to figure out how to use your technology? It took me hours to figure out how to turn off that SOS signal you sent this morning.” Steve’s hand buries itself in Tony’s hair as he messes it up, and Tony weakly attempts to bat him away, small hiccups of laughter escaping his mouth. “You’re not being fair. As if you’d be able to go a day without your little toys.” 

Tony looks up and Steve withdraws his hand; his chest only aches once with longing before he quickly suppresses it. “Once we’re done with this mission, you’re on.” 

As their laughter fades, he looks back out at the sea, the sun casting orange and golden rays across the water and sand. He turns his head to the side to say something else and catches Steve staring at him. Their eyes meet and Steve immediately looks embarrassed, breaking eye contact first. “What? Does my hair look bad? It’s your fault if it does.” 

“Oh. Uh, no, it actually looks nice in the sun.” Steve stammers out, clearing his throat at the end. “You know. It looks nice for someone who was thrown into a sign this morning.” 

Tony blinks in surprise. _Think nothing of it, Tony. He’s just being polite. It means nothing. He doesn’t like you like that._

“Well, of course it looks nice. It’s my haircare routine at work.” 

They both fall into a silence that is quickly broken by the radio above them playing another upbeat song. 

**April 27th – 9:19 A.M.**

The problem with Tony is that once he sets his mind on something, it’s difficult to talk him out of it. No matter how ridiculous or wild it is. 

Tony stayed up that night, working on upgrades to the watches as promised, and proceeded to wake Steve up sometime around seven in the morning. They wolfed down a quick breakfast with what they had in the little refrigerator they were provided, which was nothing but a few measly eggs and pieces of toast. Still, it was better than going out there when their faces were most likely being plastered all over the enemy’s base. 

Then Tony briefly explained everything to Steve as they got dressed in their disguises (Tony wearing all black, topped with a leather jacket for extreme badass-effect, causing Steve to dress up similarly for the sake of them looking like they’re employees working in the same place), who didn’t seem to approve of the plan at all and made sure that he was vocal of that as they continue to walk towards the police station a few blocks away. 

“Why can’t we just look everything up online? I’m sure that there are some records. Do we have to resort to stealing from them?” 

“There’s a lot that law enforcement doesn’t tell us, Mr. Rogers. I feel like they’re hiding something that won’t make them look good. Anyway, it’s not stealing. We’re the Avengers. What are they going to say?” 

“We’re not the Avengers right now, remember? We’re undercover. And if they’re not hiding something?” 

“Yeah, yeah. In the very small chance that they’re not, you can call me a dumbass to my face.” Tony replies absentmindedly, getting his fake badge ready as well as his watch, going for another disguised voice. 

Steve huffs as he does the same. “There’s absolutely nothing stopping me from doing that right now. In fact, it’s _very_ tempting to do it right now.” 

They cease bickering as the station comes into view. It’s bigger than an average town police station, which makes sense considering how many people reside in the hotels daily. They probably deal with an unholy amount of drug and alcohol busts. As they approach the doors, Tony looks at Steve questioningly and only when he nods does he proceed to go through them. 

“What’s up?” An officer casually asks as they walk in, kicked back in his chair, his eyes lifting up from his newspaper to briefly glance over them before returning to his reading material. A small rotating fan sitting on the large desk provides background noise. No one else is inside. 

Exchanging glances with Steve and shrugging, Tony takes initiative to speak first, holding out his badge. “The name’s Anders…uh…” his voice trails off as he realizes that he never took the time to memorize his entire fake name. It’d look weird if he looks at it now. He clears his throat, quickly improvising, “Howard. Howard Anders. My partner and I are here to examine your station. Make sure that everything is up to date.” 

The officer doesn’t seem too interested in looking at the badge. His eyes scan over it quickly before they glaze over with the same bored look he had before. “Who sent you?” 

“We’re scientists from S.H.I.E.L.D.” Steve pitches in. 

“Right!” Tony exclaims before adding onto that, “You can ask the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. himself if you want. He just heard about what’s happening over here and wanted to make sure that you’re handling everything. Maybe we’ll upgrade some of your technology while we’re at it.” 

The officer suddenly looks interested, but Tony can tell that it’s only because he has been told to keep his mouth shut about something. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll ask my boss to shoot him an e-mail to confirm that you were here. Just, uh, don’t go into the Confidential room, yeah? Wouldn’t want you guys misplacing anything there, boss likes it kept orderly.” He fidgets with his belt for a few seconds before drawing out some keys, motioning for them to follow him. 

Within moments, Tony and Steve are left alone in the innermost part of the station. 

“That was easy.” Steve comments, looking over his shoulder at the closed door behind them. “Way too easy, don’t you think?” 

Tony is already searching the hallway stretching ahead of them for a room that has the word “Confidential” printed all over it. “Yeah, I suppose we were long overdue for a break. The guy is hiding something, I know it. Lucky for us, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. Told us exactly where to find it.” Finally, he stops ahead a door all the way at the end of the hallway, and ding ding, it has the word “Confidential” written in small, faded letters. 

He tries to open the handle but it doesn’t budge. No surprise there. Bending down, Tony taps a few times on his watch, the gauntlet appearing over his hand. He waits as Friday reads off his strength percentage before finally putting his hand on the handle, pushing down with controlled strength. The lock breaks with a sharp and satisfying click but the handle remains in place. 

“You could’ve just asked me.” Steve murmurs as he follows Tony inside. 

“Jealous?” Tony smirks as he retracts the gauntlet, the lights flickering on as they sense movement. The room is rather small, nothing like the room that Tony expected to come across, but the shelves are filled to the brim with files. “Organized my ass. This is only vaguely alphabetical. Alright, we’ll play it their way. You take right, I’ll take left.” 

As they begin to part ways, Steve grabs onto the sleeve of Tony’s jacket, tugging him backwards. There is something in his eyes, something akin to determination. “Try not to get your ass kicked again.” 

“Have a little faith in me, Capsicle.” 

For the next few minutes, they both scour the shelves. Tony is glad that he’s read a lot of books in college and can therefore skim through the files easily, his mind picking out certain key words. Finally, after a multitude of files pertaining to old murders, assaults, drug busts – typical crimes – Tony finds exactly what he is looking for. The file is thinner than others, meaning that the case is still open and with little to no leads. 

_Jackpot._ Three victims so far. They are of varying ages but all males and so far, all of them people with no known family. The files describe the areas they were found in, the way their bodies were discarded carelessly in street dumpsters, how carefully every piece of evidence seemed to be scrubbed clean from them, and a separate sheet of paper describes the injuries that they sustained. 

_Victims were found with –_

Tony suddenly stops reading. His heart drops all the way to his stomach and he doesn’t miss the way his hands start trembling as they clutch the paper, making indentations. _No. No way. This isn’t true. This can’t be true. How didn’t I see it before? Fuck. What the fuck?_

Suddenly, he hears a commotion on the other side of the room. Quickly folding up the paper with the descriptions of their injuries and tucking it into his pocket, therefore leaving the other papers in the file, he speed-walks around the shelves of information until Steve is in his sight. Whatever happened seems to be already over since Steve is standing over an officer lying on the ground. 

“Well, this all seems horrible,” he comments, trying to steady his voice as he approaches Steve and experimentally toes the unconscious officer with his shoe. Tony notices that he isn’t the one they saw at the desk, which is strange considering the fact that he didn’t see any other officers inside the station. A pair of glasses sit a few feet away from the officer. “What happened?” 

“He’s one of them. He said he recognized us as the people who stole the drive and tried getting past me but he sort of walked into my fist.” There’s something strained in Steve’s voice. 

“You alright?” he brushes his free hand against Steve’s shoulder, who offers him a small smile, meant to be reassuring, 

“Yeah. He didn’t put up much of a fight.” 

Tony can tell by the hesitation in his voice that his response isn’t one-hundred percent honest but he doesn’t push it, instead opting for searching for an escape. “Alright, let’s get out of here. I have what we need.” _And more,_ he silently adds but fails to say aloud. The paper stuffed in his pocket feels like a heavy stone. He’s glad that his panic is being choked by his survival instinct. 

“Friday, any exits around here? Preferably not through the front door?” Tony asks his watch. 

“The only way out is the front door.” Friday chirps. 

“Great.” 

They turn the corner into the hallway and open the door that leads them back to where they came from. The officer from before is still there, lazily kicked back, softly humming a song. Tony takes the lead, awkwardly shuffling towards the front door with the file hidden in his jacket as he quickly shouts, “Everything looks great, you’re doing a great job, if I were your boss I’d give you a raise, you have a great humming voice. Our work here is done.” 

“B-but wait, you didn’t give us anything – ”

His voice cuts off as Steve shuts the front door behind them and they both quickly jog away from the station just in case the officer wants to get up and put up a chase – as slim as those chances are considering how comfortable he looked. As soon as they’re a good distance away and mingled into the crowd, Tony slows down to a walk. He feels as if something is weighing him down and this time, it’s not the Arc Reactor. 

“Now that we have the other information, we can finally look at what’s on the drive!” Steve says in a triumphant voice as he falls in step with Tony. 

“No!” Tony shouts before he can think about what to say and clamps his hand over his mouth as he does, softly cursing himself for letting that outburst happen. In a much calmer yet strained voice, he explains, “We have until May 1st, which is the day of the next Gala event and the day we’re finally free from our imprisonment. We’ll go through what we have now and then take a look at it. We’ll need some sort of entertainment for the next couple of days.” 

Steve looks at him strangely and Tony knows that it’s out of character of him to suggest pushing off potentially new knowledge but he _can’t_ handle whatever is on the drive right now. He isn’t even sure if he wants Steve to handle it, either. 

To his relief, the subject is not brought up again. 

**April 28th – 2:01 A.M.**

Tony lies awake. 

Suddenly he no longer has the desire to look at what’s on the flash drive. He already knows. That’s not the worst part. The worst part continues to haunt him, following him like a shadow. 

_Victims were found with multiple injuries to the chest._

The words printed on the paper ring in his head like a church bell. His chest seems to ache with sympathy. A wave of nausea threatens to wash over him. 

Now he has to decide whether or not he should tell Steve. Morally speaking, he should. Steve deserves to know; after all, he and Tony are _both_ working on the mission. They both need to be in the loop of new information. Not to mention the fact that Steve has told Tony he trusts him. 

But what will come of this groundbreaking new information? Suddenly, this mission became personal to one of the heroes. That’s the last thing any agency wants, especially one that wants to remain on the down-low. 

“His post-traumatic stress would act up. We can’t risk having that happen during a crucial moment.” Fury would say and the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. would nod their heads in agreement. Tony would be kicked off the mission faster than the speed of light. They’d toss him into Stark Tower – better known as Avengers Tower these days – and call it a day. 

Suddenly anger starts bubbling in his stomach, traveling up to his chest, his body heating up. His Reactor seems to glow brighter, but he doubts it’s anything other than a trick of the light. They have _no right_ to bench him under the current circumstances just because he deals with PTSD – as if Steve doesn’t experience it, too. They’d want to take Tony off of the mission because it’s so reminiscent of what he has gone through in Afghanistan but little do they know, there is never a point in time when Tony doesn’t think about what happened. The constant reminder is imbedded in his chest, for heaven’s sake. 

Now his reality might be someone else’s and they wouldn’t have the mercy of escaping. 

Gripping the flash drive in his hands, he tries to reason with himself. Tony knows his way around Arc Reactor technology. No one else can substitute that kind of knowledge and it can be argued that it is essential to the mission. Whoever they shove Steve with after taking Tony away is most likely not going to know the things Tony does, even if Tony is allowed to keep in touch and advise them. 

Guilt pricks at his skin and for a moment, he considers pushing everything else aside and telling Steve. He doesn’t want to hurt Steve. He knows that once Steve finds out that Tony knows something he doesn’t, he’s bound to feel like his trust had been carelessly trampled on. The thought of that makes Tony want to kick his own ass for daring to betray Steve’s trust. His revelation earlier about his newfound…feelings for Steve just makes things harder. Then again, or does it only solidify Tony’s earlier speculation? 

After all, Iron Man protects everyone. Tony Stark makes it a statement to protect those he loves. 

Steve isn’t going to know. 

With the decision finally set in stone, his body seems to move on its own accord. He quietly gets up from his bed, making a beeline towards Steve’s bed. His legs feel like they’re weighed down with heavy boots of lead. The paper left in his jacket, which is discarded his bed, sneers at him. He stops as soon as he’s standing in front of Steve’s sleeping face and the sight of him brings daggers to Tony’s heart. 

_I trust you. I trust you, I trust you, I trust you, I trust_ you. 

Kneeling down, Tony gently takes Steve’s watch from his nightstand, trying to ignore the way his hands shake. Slowly and with precise care, he latches it onto Steve’s wrist, which is hanging down the side of the bed. For a second, his fingers hover over his hand, as if a single touch will electrify him. 

_I think I know exactly who_ you _are._

“Do you, really?” Tony whispers, drawing his hand away. He stands up and, clutching the flash drive in his hand like a life source, takes his laptop off of his table. As he stands in the doorway of the bathroom, he casts one last look at the sleeping man. 

_I’m not leaving_ you, _Steve._

Tony shuts the door behind him and locks it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually really like this chapter to be honest. i had fun with the balcony scene.  
> anyways, things calm down a little next chapter but we have a guest appearance!  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! lemme know what you think!


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